


Ain't No Rest For The Wicked (extras)

by Trashforstuckyandgot



Series: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Cheating, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22403950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashforstuckyandgot/pseuds/Trashforstuckyandgot
Summary: Extra chapters from the crack-fick "Ain't No Rest for The Wicked."CAN be read as stand-alones.***Chapter 1***“And is there something else I should be aware of? Like do you speak the language of the Swedes as well?”“Nja, lite kan jag väl ändå,” the man shared, grinning like a devil, causing her to gasp.“Do I even know you?”“I’m kidding Elia!” he exclaimed, almost toppling over with laughter, “That and a few other words are literally the extent of my knowledge of the Swedish language.”“Hmph, I was half-expecting you to break out into Norwegian,” she mumbled but shushed him when he was about to open his mouth, “Don’t you dare,” Elia warned, not being able to stop the laugh escaping her lips.
Relationships: Arthur Dayne/Elia Martell, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Series: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612369
Comments: 31
Kudos: 85





	1. Elia finds out about Rhaegar's infidelity.

**Author's Note:**

> (NOTICE: Chapter one can be read as a stand-alone but perhaps check out the first part of this collection (the actual main story) if you want a big picture and kinda see what happened next). 
> 
> Ever wanted insight to a few pivotal events in the crack-fic "Ain't No Rest For The Wicked"? No? Okay, then I'll show my own way out. 
> 
> Well, jokes aside; In this story You'll get... basically... Extra information behind the current story and a backstory regarding stuff that was briefly mentioned in the main story. 
> 
> So for example; Aerys's crazy christmas parties, how Elia found out Rhaegar was cheating, Elia confronting Rhaegar, Viserys on one of his sick-days spent with Aerys. Etc, etc. It might be humorous and I had a bit of inspiration to write the first chapter. 
> 
> This will be updated whenever, I guess. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed this little thing and comment down below, anything really. Maybe you have a scene in the OG fic that you'd want an entire chapter on, idk. 
> 
> Until next time,  
> <3

It hadn’t been Rhaegar himself who’d told Elia that he’d been fucking a high-schooler on his freetime, gotten her pregnant and hid it for four whole years. No, her weasel of a husband would not give her that courtesy. 

It had been his dearest friend, Arthur Dayne who’d told her, one stormy night when Rhaegar had been off on one of his “Business trips”. 

“Elia?” Arthur asked as she returned from putting Aegon and Rhaenys to bed. They were tired, little things and all she’d had to do was sing them the mockingbird lullaby and they were gone in an instant. 

“Yes?” she replied absentmindedly, plopping down on the black leather couch. It was a ghastly thing, but Rhaegar had picked it out a year ago and she never had the heart to tell him that she absolutely loathed the thing. _It is just so damned uncomfortable._ It was a rich people kind of couch, only good for being shown off. 

“Can I-uhm,” the man cleared his throat, “Have a word with you?” 

“You’re having them now,” she raised an amused eyebrow, finding herself enthralled by his violet eyes, a much brighter color than Rhaegar’s deep indigo. 

“I-” he began and that was when Elia realised the Dayne was anxious, bouncing his knee up and down, turning his face away from her piercing gaze. 

“What is it, Arthur?” she asked sympathetically, scooting closer and placing a calming hand on his knee. When he looked up at her, his eyes were pleading, for what? She knew nothing of yet. 

“You’ve _got_ to believe me when I say that I _just_ found out,” he begged, “He never told me,” the man continued in a haunted whisper, “Please don’t blame me.” 

“Who never told you, Arthur?” she inquired kindly, chiding herself for noticing how handsome that best friend of her husband’s truly was. _I knew him in Dorne, we were childhood friends._ Then, they’d grown apart. She’d moved away and met Rhaegar. Then, Rhaegar met Arthur. 

“Rhaegar-He-” Arthur was struggling, it was difficult to betray your best friend to someone, so Elia decided to put him out of his misery.

“Just tell me, don’t soften the words. Tell me and unburden your heart, because I assume this is not your burden to bear?” she asked. 

“If only it was that easy,” he let out a nervous laugh before turning solemn.

“Go on,” she murmured, brown eyes never leaving his violet. 

“Rhaegar has a son and a… a- I don’t know what she is. Maybe mistress is an appropriate word. She’s young, Elia,” Arthur said, all in one breath, “She’s so fucking young.” For a moment, time stilled and reality did not seem real. _Maybe I’m dreaming,_ the Dornishwoman pondered, _this can’t be fucking real._ Rhaegar? Her husband, the one who’d sworn to love her and all that shit in-between. 

“How old are they?” she asked instead, voice eerily calm. It wasn’t her voice, it was someone else’s because how could she sound so terribly cold and distant? 

“The boy is four, the woman is twenty,” he whispered and her heart fell into her gut like a barrel of rocks. _Twenty? That means that she was sixteen when she got pregnant? Rhaegar was twenty-three four years ago, seven years older._ The thought sickened her. 

“Why? How?” Elia asked, her voice cracking. Rhaegar and her had been young when they married, twenty and twenty-one when they had Rhaenys but she’d loved him. _I thought the strain this past year had been because of work, because of all our commitments…_ How could he have done this to her? To their family? Elia had been comfortable in their relationship and even though their honey-moon phase was long gone, she thought he’d loved her. It hurt to be betrayed in that way. 

“I don’t know,” Arthur shook his head apologetically, “I saw him at this coffee shop a few weeks ago, with her and the kid. I thought it was weird but he told me that it was his friend and I forgot about it. Then, I realised what a weird explanation that was, since you’d told me earlier that day that he was in New York on business. So, I did research.” 

“And?” Elia inquired breathlessly, wondering why she even wanted to know more, wondering what compelled her to ask. 

“His name is on the fucking birth-certificate,” Arthur shook his head, “The girl was _that_ stupid. It’s public information, anyone who wants it can badly enough can get it and I wanted you to know. You don’t deserve this and hell will break loose when the public finds out and I hear Petyr Baelish has already gotten a whiff of dirt on Rhaegar’s collar. He hates the Starks and the mother is Lyanna Stark.” 

“And Eddard Stark married Catelyn Tully,” Elia mumbled, knowing the story between Baelish and the Tullys. _There’s going to be a crusade after us,_ she thought, horrified. And worst of all; There would be paparazzis following her every step, just like when Rhaegar and her were newly married. She was not a woman who was overly fond with attention and being in the public eye and now she would have to return, as a scorned woman. All because of Rhaegar motherfucking Targaryen. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she repeated, her hands balling into fists, nails clawing at the inside of her palm until she was sure it was bleeding crimson. It hurt like a fucking bitch to find out that your husband, the one you thought you loved, had a child with another woman and had been hiding it for the past few years. “Doesn’t he have a fucking spine? Hiding it until we find out the truth?” she asked, tears sliding down her cheeks, “What did I do wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Arthur replied fiercely, putting his strong arms around her, dragging the smaller woman close to his chest, “Nothing at all.” 

“I hate him,” her voice cracked, “I fucking hate him.” But she didn’t. Even though their love had dwindled since they were younger, she loved him and that was _why_ it hurt. 

“I’m so sorry, Ells,” Arthur whispered, using her childhood nickname and stroking her hair. She could barely think, all that coursed through her veins was anger. 

“I-I- I’ll be right back,” Elia mumbled, untangling herself and standing up, grabbing her phone from the glass-table, feeling her heart burn with anger. How dare he do that to them? To their children? 

“Where are you going?” Arthur asked panickedly. 

“I’m going to call my cheating, asshole of a husband,” she grumbled, taking determined steps toward the door leading out to the patio. _I won’t have the kids wake up to me screaming._

“Is that really a good idea, Elia?” Arthur asked, worry lacing his words, “It’s late and you were just hit with a _massive_ amount of information. Go to sleep and figure out what to do in the morning. Don’t give him a head-start. You know how good he is with words.” 

“That makes sense, it is very rational,” she agreed, frowning, “It’s what I should do... But right now, to me; nothing makes sense and I want to cut his dick off with a dull knife and feed it to him,” she hissed and moved outside. 

He was saved as _“hubby”_ on her phone and she cringed even seeing that pet-name. Elia was never fond of those cheesy endearments but somehow, when Rhaegar had so arrogantly changed it a year ago, she never had the heart to change it back. Now, however, she was filled with rage and decided to be petty. So, she changed it to “cheating asshole” and pressed the icon of him grinning. She would change that later, too. _To a pig or something like that._

 _Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring._ “Hello,” his voice began in that somber tone and she almost began screaming.

“You fucking piece of-” 

“-You’ve reached Rhaegar Targaryen. I am not available at the moment but will get back to you as soon as I am able. Have a nice day and if it is urgent, leave a message at the beep-” 

“Fuck!” Elia exclaimed, seeing an old coffee cup on the patio-table and deciding to pick it up and throw it against the lamp-post by the side of the road. The crash was deafening but it didn’t bring her the comfort she wanted. 

“Elia,” Arthur stared at her helplessly but she raised a finger, daring him to come outside. The man gulped and resigned himself to just looking at her. 

“Come on,” she grumbled, pressing the icon again, even though it was eleven pm, “Answer you pathetic piece of shit.” 

_Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring,_ “Hello. You’ve reached Rhaegar Targaryen-” she hung up and tried again. Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring. “Hello. You’ve reached Rhaegar Targaryen. I am not available at the moment but will get back to you as soon as I am able. Have a nice day and if it is urgent, leave a message at the beep-”

“Will you just _please_ pick up the fucking phone!” she yelled and then hung up, screaming as she threw her phone down on the patio, not caring if it broke or not. Then, she began laughing and it was wild, hysterical, crazed. Arthur actually walked outside upon witnessing that and gathered her up into his arms, as she continued laughing so hard that her stomach began hurting. 

“Oh, Elia,” he sighed. She just kept on laughing. 

Then, the man placed her on the couch and her laughs and giggles turned into sobs. Painful, heart-wrenching sobs that spoke of a pain too deep to be expressed in mere words. She’d given her all to Rhaegar Targaryen. Risked her life to carry his children, always attended those boring dinners without an utter of complaint because it was _required_ of her. It was her duty and she was repaid with this-- A secret family, another woman. Was it that he wanted someone younger? Someone more wild and carefree? Someone who was more adventurous? 

“I don’t know what could have been so horrible, Arthur,” she wheezed, “Four years ago… I was crazy in love with him four years ago. Was it sex he left me for?” she asked. They’d used to do it so often but now it was more of a weekly occurrence, if he was even up to it, “Did I become too ugly?” she asked, “Too boring?”

“Shit, Elia, I don’t know,” Arthur sighed, running a hand through his short hair, “You’re neither ugly nor boring-- He’s fucking insane.” 

“Alcohol,” she stood up, taking a deep breath, “I need alcohol.” Arthur protested but she didn’t care and instead walked into the kitchen, retrieved a black coffee mug from the cabinet and went into the liquor cabinet, opening one of Rhaegar’s most prized possessions. It was rum from like… the 19th century or something. It was worth a hell-of-a-lot of money and he was a man who enjoyed collecting. 

“Maybe he loves this more than he loves his children…” she told Arthur who stood in the hallway, looking aghast as she opened the bottle with a wicked smile. 

“He’s going to be fuming,” the man murmured and Elia let out a harsh, short laugh.

“Good. I’ll pour it out into the sink, right in front of his eyes when he returns on sunday.” Then, she poured the contents into half of the cup and took two deep swigs, wincing as it burned her throat. 

“Okay champ, that’s enough,” her childhood friend said, moving to stop her as she poured herself a second half of a mug. 

“Not nearly,” she replied haughtily, pushing him away and finishing it just as quickly as she did her first mug. 

“Whew,” she exclaimed, the room spinning for a few moments, “That was the wildest thing I’ve done in years. That felt good, it warms my dead heart.” 

“Ells,” Arthur began but she shushed him. 

“Since Rhaegar’s been fucking this… Lina? Is she Swedish?” 

“Lyanna,” Arthur corrected, “And she’s from Michigan,” he deadpanned.

“Whatever, tomato, tomato,” she murmured.

“Not really, Sweden is in Europe, more specifically; Scandi-” 

“I know where Sweden is, Arthur!” Elia snapped, “It’s all the fucking same, North here and North there, snow and cold and fucking storms-- what does it matter?” History and geography were two of the Dayne’s most favorite subject so, he did not think it was the same, but allowed her to rage. 

“Well,” she took a breath and composed herself as best she could, “Why did you tell me? You are Rhaegar’s best friend, not mine.” 

“Are you serious?” Arthur asked incredulously, “Why should I defend someone who cheated on you for years and created a whole other life, another family. What do I gain from keeping that secret? I wouldn’t even be able to look you in the eyes.” 

“So you’re ready to throw it all away? Your friendship with my husband?” she asked, eyeing him intensely, searching for lies in those haunting, purple eyes. 

“Was it really that strong if he hid it from _all_ of us? I don’t want to be friends with someone capable of this fucked up shit.” 

“Call Ashara,” Elia said suddenly, feeling the buzz from the alcohol in her veins. 

“Why?” Arthur asked, leaning against the counter deliciously. Elia never knew when she began _seeing_ Arthur Dayne as something other than her husband’s funny best friend, or the boy she had played with as a girl. But he was fucking hot, anyone had to give him that. But then he was honorable and kind, witty but also clever in that effortless way. And she was angry, so fucking angry and when she looked at Arthur, she felt both angry and horny and as if she wanted to run into his arms and cry as she shit-talked Rhaegar.

“I’m drunk,” she said instead, feeling her self-conscience go down the drain. What if Rhaegar didn’t want her because she was old and used after having given birth to Rhaenys? Because stretch-marks now adorned parts of her previously unblemished skin? Because maybe it didn’t feel the same, or she didn’t look the same, or talk the same or act the same. 

“I’ll stay the night,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke her arm gently, “I’ll watch the kids. You need to rest and deserve a day off.” His words were compelling, but then she looked at him. Truly looked at Arthur Dayne, inside and out and realised what a wonderful fucking human being that he was. And what a piece of shit the empty Rhaegar Targaryen was, who always sang his fake-deep love-songs and ballads and would recite his shitty poetry to her before she slept (well maybe it wasn’t shitty but she would like to think it was.) 

“No,” she breathed and stared into his eyes, framed by dark, brown lashes and looked at the silver-gold hair that was so different from her husband’s. Arthur was so alike but yet so different in a thousand ways, “Call Ashara and ask her if she could come babysit. I want to,” she faltered “I just want to do _something._ I never do anything.” Arthur gazed at her for a few silent moments before nodding.

“Alright.” 

***

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Ashara asked Elia with a pointed gaze. 

“I’ll be fine,” Elia smiled, “Arthur is with me, isn’t he?” 

“That, I am,” he replied, eyeing the Dornishwoman warily. 

“Okay then,” the beautiful, pale woman said, embracing Elia tightly, “Fill me in tomorrow, okay?” 

“I will, Ash,” Elia kissed her friend’s cheek and then Arthur and her were on their way- somewhere, anywhere. 

“You look beautiful,” Arthur complimented as he opened the car-door for her. She’d changed into a little, black dress that would put Carrie Bradshaw to shame and actually put on makeup during the time it took for Ashara to arrive, but the night was still young. _I’m surprised the dress still fits me._ It had been in her collection since before Rhaenys was born, but she’d only worn it twice or so. _Rhaegar always thought it was a bit too slutty but as it turned out, he was the slutty one._

“Thanks,” she smiled appreciating the way the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled up his arms and he was wearing that brand of grey slacks that made a man’s butt just… pop. It was weird, she was objectifying him but honestly, she could blame it on the wine and Rhaegar being such a fucking cunt. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Arthur asked as he pulled out of the driveway and began driving down the dark road. 

“I’m objectifying you,” she confessed and the silver-haired man turned to her with an amused smile, one eyebrow raised. 

“Are you now?” 

“That’s what I said, innit?” Elia was toying with him, feeling equal parts heavy and light. _No, stop thinking about Rhaegar. You will do enough of it tomorrow. Be young, if only for tonight._

“And what are you objectifying? Do tell,” her childhood friend grinned, stopping at a red-light. 

“Your ass. You have a good one,” she frowned, “I wish I had an ass like yours. It’s just… bubbly, all rainbows and fluffy unicorns looking,” 

“What an interesting way to phrase things, I always did love your adjectives,” Arthur smiled fondly, violet eyes changing shades in the flares of the streetlights. 

“And I always did love your ass,” she sighed, leaning back into the seat, closing those brown eyes, content with hearing the man’s warm chuckle. 

“Where are we going?” he asked after a few moments and Elia began pondering. _We could go to a club, but honestly I don’t really want to and I feel too old for that scene._

“Let’s order a bunch of food, a few bottles of wine, head back to your place and talk shit about my husband as we watch shitty rom-coms that make me feel better about my own romantic comedy… Which is my life but it doesn’t really have a happy ending.”

“You don’t know that,” he scolded, You got all dressed up for that?” he asked softly. It wasn’t patronizing or anything, like Rhaegar would sometimes be when she made an effort like that. It was more admiring. 

“Yes, I want to look my best as I feel my worst,” she winked at him and there was something indiscernible in that violet gaze. 

***

“Here,” Arthur handed Elia a glass of pinot grigio as she munched on a slice of cheese pizza, with a stuffed crust.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, bowing her head, in a horrible attempt at a british accent. 

“You are so very welcome, m’lady,” he returned the favor, toasting to their night. 

“I’m going to divorce him,” Elia murmured as she stuffed a handful of fries from in N out into her mouth.

“I didn’t expect any less, Ells,” he replied softly, reaching out to put a comforting hand on the one she had resting on the table. 

“And I’m taking the kids to Oberyn’s tomorrow. Then I’ll have my lawyer contact his. I don’t think it’ll be too hard to gain sole custody but I don’t know if I should… Rhaegar loves our children. I don’t want to take them from him, they deserve a father, however shitty he may have been to me.” 

“You’re a good woman, Elia,” Arthur told her sincerely, “I don’t know why he cheated on you with a teenager.” 

“Me neither,” she replied, “I wish I knew. I wish I knew what made him do this.” Things remained silent for a few moments, before Elia’s drunk giggle cut through it. She’d been thinking of her youth in ‘Dorne, where a certain silver-haired boy would occupy her mind, too often. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, warmth embracing the words. 

“Everything and nothing,” she snorted, continuing to giggle, “But more importantly; I used to have _such_ a crush on you when we were kids,” she continued to laugh, almost toppling over.

“Did you?” Arthur asked and she nodded, helplessly.

“You were Ashara’s hot, older brother, how could I not? Half the girls in Dorne were at your mercy but you were too busy knowing where the fuck Sweden was,” she giggled and the sound was so pure that Arthur joined in, chuckling. 

“It’s important to know!” he defended himself, dragging a hand through his short, silvery hair. 

“And now I’m almost twenty-nine and can’t really remember half the time I’ve been alive.” 

“Try being thirty,” he raised a silvery eyebrow. 

“That’s rough, man,” she giggled, “Sometimes I regret marrying so young. I let life kinda escape me, and here I am. Cheated on with two kids, drunk and dressed in a slutty dress, in the kitchen of my husband’s very fucking hot best friend that I used to have a thing for. When did we all get so fucked up?” Elia asked, taking a deep swig of her wine.

“I’ll drink to that,” Arthur raised his glass and downed the wine that was left in it, “You’ll have such a hangover tomorrow,” he promised her. 

“I know,” she smiled and finished her own glass and leaned back, appraising the man through dark lashes. 

“Are you tired?” the silver-haired Dayne asked tenderly but she shook her head. 

“No Arthur, I am fucking angry,” she began giggling again, “I’m fucking fuming but all I seem to do is laugh because it feels like I’m on an episode of Jerry Springer!” That caused Arthur to snort. 

“Should we make an entry?” he laughed, “I could pretend to be your new man for added drama. I can already see the title in front of me “Cheating husband’s best friend sleeps with the wife!”

“Gods,” she snorted, “That would make Jerry some money, wouldn’t it?” 

“It would be hilarious!” he was almost crying just thinking about having their fucked-up lives being televised and Elia was too. 

“I think Oberyn and Ellaria would surely flash the crowd for those plastic-bead necklaces.”

“Would we expect less from that iconic duo?” Arthur grinned as Elia shook her head. 

The room fell into a comfortable silence, once more, but with Arthur’s violet gaze never leaving her. It made her feel exposed, like a raw nerve under his microscope. 

“What?” she asked, almost slurring the words. Arthur’s reply was soft, almost a whisper but so secure in its holdings. 

“Nothing. I’m simply admiring your strength, perseverance and beauty.” 

“Drunk at 2 in the morning, wallowing in self-pity isn’t exactly my strongest look but okay, I guess,” she replied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone be stronger,” he replied and stood up.

“Where are you going?” She asked and the Dayne only winked at her.

“Come on,” he shouted from the living room, “We’re watching Vikings, I feel like you’ll enjoy some historical bloodshed after this joke of a day.” 

“Sweden, again!” she giggled, following him. 

“Actually there was quite a diversity to the vikings and some were Russian, Danish, Norwegian and so on it goes,” Arthur educated her keenly. 

“Yeah we learned that in like fourth grade but I’m sure you chose it for its Swedish-ness.”

“Ragnar did become the king of Norway and Sweden, indeed,” the silver-haired man shared, making her chuckle. 

“And is there something else I should be aware of? Like do you speak the language of the Swedes as well?” 

“Nja, lite kan jag väl ändå,” the man shared, grinning like a devil, causing her to gasp.

“Do I even know you?” 

“I’m kidding Elia!” he exclaimed, almost toppling over with laughter, “That and a few other words are literally the extent of my knowledge of the Swedish language.” 

“Hmph, I was half-expecting you to break out into Norwegian,” she mumbled but shushed him when he was about to open his mouth, “Don’t you dare,” Elia warned, not being able to stop the laugh escaping her lips. 

***

“Ragnar is so fucking hot,” she groaned, throwing popcorn at the screen, “In a disgusting way. Like he’s so slippery but there’s something oddly attractive about him. Would smash if he had a bath! 10/10.” 

“Spoken like a true wine-mom,” Arthur chuckled, stroking her shoulder as she laid sprawled out on top of him. In an actually comfortable couch. _I’ll burn the one we have at home. Let it be my birthday gift to Rhaegar._

“Yeah yeah,” she yawned, slowly lulled to sleep-- knowing that the morning would be a very difficult day. But for now; she was just a young woman in the company of a young man and it was comforting to be just that.   
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hope you enjoyed the story and leave a kudos if you did, and even better; a comment. I'm very fond of those.  
> The translation for the Swedish snippet is kind of tricky to explain because there is no direct, english equivalent but it kinda means "Well... I do know a little" but it's more teasing.
> 
> Well, I'm rambling... until next time


	2. Elia confronts Rhaegar about his infidelity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I-”  
> “-You’re not even half the fucking man that you think you are, Rhaegar,” she spit venomously, throwing her wine glass at the counter behind him.  
> “Are you fucking crazy?” He asked, making her laugh.  
> “Yes, maybe I am,” Elia retorted.  
> “Please, Elia, calm down and we can work through this,” Rhaegar moved to take her hand, “Lyanna’s a nice woman, we can work through this-- We could like… have dinner,” he offered desperately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter about when Elia confronts Rhaegar about being a cheating asshole. it gets wild. 
> 
> Don't forget to leave a kudos if you enjoyed this chapter and a comment down below about what you thought and so onn so forthh.

When Rhaegar arrived that dismal sunday, Elia was waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the mahogany counter with a glass of pinot grigio in her manicured hand. She was dressed up to the nines, wearing the tight, red dress with the sweetheart neckline that he’d always said was a bit too vulgar, with matching “Obnoxious” as he’d called them, louboutins. Elia had gotten up at seven am, just to do her hair and makeup impeccably. She wanted to look beautiful as she kicked his sorry ass to the curb and demanded a divorce. 

As the clock struck eleven, she heard the front-door open and smiled into her glass. She was that weird kind of enraged where you’re just calm and composed but slightly humored. _This situation is the kind of fucked up, where I’d expect to see it on Dr. Phil or Jerry Springer._ To be honest, she would have laughed if she’d seen an episode like that and thanked the Gods that her life was not _that_ messed up… But it was. 

His steps echoed throughout the large house that she may have… emptied out. Well, it wasn’t like she’d taken _everything_ \-- Just her own things, what she had bought (Like the TV and the expensive crystal glassware that Rhaegar enjoyed, along with the oaken dining table, the stuff in Aegon and Rhaenys’s rooms and some of the paintings.) She’d left him their bed, even though it was a great one, because she didn’t want to sleep in what that idiot had.

Besides; her revenge on the bed had been extracted in kind of… coercing Arthur into fooling around on it. She had been petty as fuck in doing that, yet it gave her a quiet satisfaction… simply knowing that she had done _that._ Anyway; Elia had most of the stuff moved into storage and some of it placed in Arthur’s place, since he’d kindly offered that they could stay there for as long as they would like. She didn’t like being a moocher, but Arthur refused to have her pay rent and insisted on that Aegon and Rhaenys be moved into the two guest-rooms. He had a surprisingly large home, for someone who lived alone. _It’ll only be until I find us a house of our own._ She wanted to feel independent for once. She'd stayed at Oberyn's for the first day, but he was starved for space and it felt too hectic with all the kids running around. 

Arthur would actually arrive in thirty minutes or so, to pick her and some of the clothes she’d stuffed into a suitcase, back to his. 

“Elia?” she heard him call in the hallway, moving toward her with urgency in his steps. _Maybe I accidentally… forgot to reply to any of his texts or call him back._ She’d not even wanted to look at his contact info, because it made her filled with such a frightening anger, “There you are,” he breathed, looking travel-worn with his tie loosened and shirt unbuttoned. _Or maybe the girl gave him that,_ Elia wondered, eyeing him disdainfully. 

“Here I am,” she mumbled coldly and took another sip of the wine, resigning to just staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. 

“Where are the kids?” he asked confusedly, “It’s sunday.” 

“They’re with Oberyn,” she replied cryptically. 

“Why are you dressed like that?” He then inquired, staring at her cleavage.

“Why?” she gasped, scanning her outfit briefly, “Don’t you like it? I think I look hot.” 

“You do…” Rhaegar began unsurely, “But it’s kind of…” 

“Slutty?” She offered when her husband faltered, “Oh, Rhaegar. You have no idea,” she gritted her teeth. 

“Why did you leave the kids with Oberyn? You know I don’t like-” 

“- His promiscuous ways?” Elia finished, taking another sip of her wine. The atmosphere in the room was colder and crueler than anything she’d ever felt before. 

“It’s just not good to have around a kid,” he sighed, “But whatever, when are they coming back?” 

“Are _you_ good to have around a child? Is your behavior any better than Oberyn’s?”

“Look, if this is about me missing Valentine’s day, I’m sorry Elia, but you know how caught up I was with work. Surely you understand.”

“I understand more than you may think, Rhaegar,” Elia told the silver-haired man coldly. 

“Why are you behaving like this? You know I don’t like it when you're cryptic, Elia!” He exclaimed wearily, walking closer to her, “I’m tired, I want to take a shower, get you out of those ridiculous clothes and fuck the hell out of you. But now; When are they coming back?” 

“Not any time soon,” she told him evenly, inspecting her red, gleaming nails. 

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” He asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“I mean that,” Elia began, leaning forward until her lips were by his ear, “If she was good enough of a fuck to lose your family for.” 

The way his eyes widened a fraction, as realisation dawned on him, made her want to giggle. It was hilarious. 

“It’s not what you think, Elia,” he began warily, “Sit down, I’ll explain.” 

“No!” she laughed harshly, “You can’t poet your way out of this one, Rhaegar! How the fuck is it not what I think? Did you have an accident? A severe one that caused your dick to slip and fall into a teenager, enough times to get her pregnant and then hide it for four years?”

“Look-” 

“Are you still with her?” Elia asked, already knowing the answer, Arthur and her had done their fair share of research. 

“No, I’m just-” he began wildly.

“-Wrong answer,” she hissed and poured the remainder of wine in her glass, right in his face. He looked like a drowned cat, she just had to giggle. 

“Please, Elia,” he told her, “This wasn’t- You weren’t-”

“-Supposed to find out? No that would ruin the point, wouldn’t it?” she tut-tutted,

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit and I’m so mad that I ever decided to have children with you and most of all; That I was dumb enough to marry you, even after all the warnings.” 

“Having Oberyn tell you that he doesn’t like me does not constitute a warning!” Rhaegar shouted, “And your brother was so full of himself! Thinking that he was better than me!”

“He _is_ better than you,” she raged back, “At least he’s no cheat! At least he’s not hiding any of his children or fucking teenagers!” 

“I-”

“-You’re not even half the fucking man that you think you are, Rhaegar,” she spit venomously, throwing her wine glass at the counter behind him.

“Are you fucking crazy?” He asked, making her laugh.

“Yes, maybe I am,” Elia retorted. 

“Please, Elia, calm down and we can work through this,” Rhaegar moved to take her hand, “Lyanna’s a nice woman, we can work through this-- We could like… have dinner,” he offered desperately. 

“Who the fuck do you think I am? Have you been lying about me to her, too? Did you say we were divorced?”  
“She’s very nice,” he began, ignoring Elia’s questions, “And we could try it out, you know?” he asked.

“Try what out?” She sneered, looking into the eyes she’d always loved, but now they disgusted her. The blue-purple turned into a plain color that made her want to puke. 

“You told me you experimented in college, you know? This isn’t really any different, maybe it’ll be fun-” 

“-Fun?” she screamed, “You want me to meet your other woman and what? Get on with her? That we’ll somehow work past this blatant betrayal and what? Sate your perversions by fucking into the next decade? What is wrong with you?” She honestly could not fathom that Rhaegar would be this idiotic, to even suggest it, “You know what? I hope your little brother turns out to be nothing like you!” Viserys was a sweet kid, she’d hate for him to try to take after his brother.

“Calm down, Elia!” he begged her, but she only laughed wildly.

“I’m so sorry, Rhaegar,” she hissed, “I’m so mad but most of all; I’m sad.” 

Then, the Dornishwoman stormed off to his liquor cabinet that she’d left full, for this occasion. She’d even taken the liberty of googling the most expensive ones and putting them up front, for easy access.

“What are you doing?” Rhaegar followed her, but she shook her head.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Then, she opened the mahogany cabinet, and picked out a wine that was like… from the 1800’s or something. _I was never good at telling wines, only drinking them._

“Do you want to know how angry I am, Rhaegar?” She asked innocently, unscrewing the bottle, feeling the satisfactory sensation of breaking the seal, “I’ll show you,” she promised, “I’ll show you.” 

“No!” he bolted forward but it was too late, she’d tipped it over the edge and was pouring it right on top of their expensive, polished wooden floors-- the dark color making part of their white rug seem like something out of a murder scene, “What the fuck is wrong-” Rhaegar began shouting, his face flushed with anger. Then, he began rushing toward the cabinet, to try to push her away and prevent her from ruining any other fine vintages. However, she pushed him away and began throwing the bottles wildly, in large numbers, reveling in the deafening crashes they made. 

“You bitch!” Rhaegar yelled, his eyes filling with… tears, “Do you know how fucking long that took me? Are you a fucking idiot? That’s hundreds of thousands of dollars!”

“You cry for your fucking wine bottles but you won’t cry for your family?” She raged hysterically, pushing him away, moving toward the door. _Arthur’s gotta be waiting outside by now._ She hoped he was, to spare her the humiliation of waddling through their neighborhood, looking like a disheveled mess. _I hate this fucking neighborhood, it’s like everyone has eyes on the back of their heads._

“Elia, you can’t just fucking walk away!” Rhaegar yelled behind her as she moved to the front-door, then he grabbed her arm, almost making her fall over in her heels. 

“Yes, I can and I fucking am, Rhaegar! We are done, my lawyer will be serving you the papers any day now!

“I’m not letting you take my fucking kids, Elia, I hope you know that!” 

“Be glad I’m not taking them,” she spit, “I want them to have a father, no matter how much of a pathetic, cheating asshole he is!” 

Then she opened the front-door and came face-to-face with Arthur, who was in the middle of ringing the doorbell. Rhaegar still had his vice-like grip around her forearm and it was beginning to hurt. 

“Arthur,” they both said in different tones. Elia’s was light but Rhaegar’s was full of confusion and hesitation. 

“What are you doing here?” Rhaegar asked, but Arthur simply shook his head and looked at Elia. 

“Are you alright, Ells?” he asked her, concern lacing his words. She nodded but turned to Rhaegar. 

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” she hissed and tried to pull her arm away but Rhaegar tightened his grip. 

“She told you to let go,” Came Arthur’s dark voice and he moved so close to her husband that they were practically chest-to-chest. 

“What has she told you?” he sneered, turning to Elia, “Was it not enough to break my heart but you had to go and steal my friends too?”

“Break your heart?” she laughed harshly, “That would be hard, since you don’t fucking have one.” 

“That’s it? Years of friendship down the drain because of what shitty pictures she’s painted of me? You don’t know anything of what she’s lik-” Rhaegar began telling Arthur. _He knows the game is lost now._

“It was me who told her!” Arthur exclaimed and Rhaegar looked to be in disbelief, “Y-o-How-”

“-You told me that _she_ was your friend,” Arthur sneered,” How much was our friendship worth if you hid that from me? How much was your marriage worth? Throwing a beautiful woman away for little more than a child.” 

“So you’re fucking?” Rhaegar laughed, turning to Elia with a disgusting grin, “Isn’t that great? You’re just as bad as I am.” 

“Fuck you,” she hissed, slapping the smile off of her husband’s face, making him clutch his scarlet cheek. _Ow, that fucking hurt,_ Elia thought and clutched her palm. _I hope I broke his fucking cheekbone._

“Some friend you are,” the silver-haired husband told his former friend. 

“I haven’t fucked Arthur,” she sneered at Rhaegar, “Unlike some; I have the decency not to be a shitty human-being until _after_ the divorce is finalised. But when it is,” she leaned it, “Oh; Then I will fuck him, right Arthur?” 

“Uh, yeah if you want to put it like-” the Dayne began, awkwardly shifting. 

“What he’s trying to say is that we’ll have sex, lots of times and he’ll probably be better at it than you are and do it more than once a week in missionary,” Elia raised her eyebrow mockingly, “And he’s just packing, isn’t he?” she asked Rhaegar with a cruel smile, “Unlike some.” It was a low blow but was kind of funny at the same time. The silver-bitch deserved it. That made her husband let out an offended sound as Arthur tried to choke down a chuckle. 

“You’ve probably had too much to drink,” the Dayne whispered into her ear and she shrugged. 

“Probably.” 

“How are you going to get your fancy Balenciagas, Chanels and Loubotoins now? If you leave me, what are you left with? We had a prenup, walk away and you’re done for,” Rhaegar began, in a last-ditch attempt to make her stay. Elia was actually flabbergasted by the comment. That made the rage turn into hopelessness and the urge to cry. _How dare he insinuate that I only loved him for the money? That I suffered through all those complications during my pregnancies, just for his money? For a pair of shoes? Does he think I’m a whore?_

“How fucking idiotic are you?” Arthur asked, coldly, “She never cared about that bullshit anyway and you know that.” 

“Watch your back,” was all Rhaegar said and it made Arthur shake his head.

“You’re a fucking cunt, trying to make her feel bad for leaving you, after you created another family. The audacity,” Arthur muttered, “Come on; we’re leaving,” he dragged her close to him and kissed the top of her head.

“Alright,” she muttered, defeated.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Rhaegar told her, eyes piercing holes into her body.

“She does,” Arthur told his former friend and then loudly exclaimed, “By the way; you look fucking hot, Elia.” 

“I do?” she asked him vulnerably, pulling her dress down so that it wouldn’t be that short. 

“Don’t,” came the Dayne’s voice, “You look great.” 

And Elia thought that, perhaps it would all be okay.


	3. The unexpected pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then, one time he’d told her ‘What if like… I nudge it during--” Elia couldn’t stop herself from giggling, even before he finished. That he’d believed such absurdities. Well; she’d been a bit cruel with her reply, snorting and saying ‘First of all; that’s a common myth and secondly; you think your dick is big enough for that? How cute.’ He’d barely talked to her for a week after that comment. Her husband could really play the silent game when he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since this was updated and here's a mess of a chapter with literally everything you can think of. It's got angst, fluff, comedy and a bit of smut. I cater to all audiences *Insert posh Winnie The Pooh meme* 
> 
> And yeah. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be a stand-alone chapter, because it exists in the same universe as ANRFTW, but it's really long and anway, idk, I put it here but maybe I'll delete it and post it as a stand-alone. Sorry if it's shit lol, I wrote it in a couple of hours as I was in the midst of my online classes. Not recommended if you're like... looking to pass the year. (haha jk... unless) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and I live for your comments, so please leave one if you want to and don't forget to give a Kudos if you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> P.s: I don't know when I'll update PTSWR but hopefully a new chapter will be up this weekend or next week. 
> 
> Until next time, 
> 
> <3

Elia was three months along with her second baby, courtesy of Rhaegar’s pull-out game being weak as fuck and he was a bitch about using condoms because _‘It doesn’t feel the same.’_ She’d been on birth control after Rhaenys, but the side-effects made her an emotional mess and even though she had considered tying her tubes; Rhaegar told her that maybe they’d want another kid. So, she’d suggested he get a vasectomy because that could be reversed… most of the time. 

_“No, I’m not going to get the snip,” her husband shook his head and looked at Elia as if she’d grown three heads, “I’m not going to un-man myself.”_

_“Don’t be dramatic,” she exclaimed, “Why should I have to go through pills and IUDs and hormones that fuck with my system, just so that you can come inside of me because you’re lazy and you think it’s hot?” Rhaegar just looked at her incredulously, raising his eyebrows and lowering his voice._

_“You think it’s hot too.”_

_“For about fifteen seconds, then it’s cold and sticky and uncomfortable!” Elia declared, correcting the strap of her tank-top. Rhaegar was looking at her breasts because she wasn’t wearing a bra and he had the audacity to wonder_ _why_ _she wanted him to get a vasectomy, “And besides; I can live without it.” It’s not like he wanted to do much else than missionary, If he would’ve; They could’ve just gotten off in other ways. For someone so young; Rhaegar really embraced the ‘middle-aged white guy with three kids’ vibe. Except he worked out._

In the end, Rhaegar never went on-board with the idea and they just continued in their weird limbo, where she was on birth-control that sometimes killed her sex-drive and made it rise to infinite levels. For a medium kind of guy like Rhaegar, it wasn’t ideal. He was the type of man who was fine if it was like once every other day, maybe four times a week. But with Elia’s shifting hormones, she either didn’t want it at all or she could go three or four times in one day-- Which sometimes annoyed Rhaegar... A lot, because he was a man of routine.

But then Elia got the flu and she went on antibiotics but as they were American… well… suffice to say they didn’t know that it cancelled out the pill. So; Rhaegar would do his usual race of _almost_ making her come during missionary, until he ruined it by coming himself and... just fell asleep. Her husband was the kind of dude who passed out but also; his dick just said ‘down down down’ when he came. Elia didn’t usually say anything because she knew that men’s egos were fragile and it wasn’t a big deal if she didn’t come all the time… she could just finish in the bathroom or something, It was the intimacy of the act that she liked but gods, did she wish Rhaegar was more explorative sometimes. He was a taker, not a giver. 

Well… anyway, two months after that weird fever-dream of a sex-life, she’d been feeling like shit. Like Elia was throwing everything she ate right back up and would gravitate toward the weirdest of things. Like peanut butter on pickles, at two in the morning. Rhaegar found her once… he was horrified. But that wasn’t everything. She’d also been noticing a weight-gain around her stomach… and her thighs. It wasn’t pretty and sometimes she’d cry about it and Rhaegar would tell her it didn’t matter because he loved her but she didn’t believe him. 

Then her breasts started getting sore and bigger and she _knew._ That was when she knew _for sure_ that they’d fucked up and a pregnancy test confirmed it. However, Elia wasn’t mad about it, she’d kind of been wanting another one and missed the early stages, when Rhaenys was a wee infant with too large, lavender eyes. Rhaegar was pleased to find out about the newer addition, even though they’d had a long discussion with her OB-GYN about how to make the pregnancy as safe as possible because she was already delicate of health.

Today, she’d hit the three-month mark and she was feeling… surprisingly well. For now, at least. Even though her little bean had been a mistake, it didn’t mean it was less wanted in their household. They were stable, her and Rhaegar. Much more stable than a lot of people in their twenties. Ashara was still out having the time of her life and Elia supported that whole-heartedly, but personally; she’d never been the type who was made for that life. She was always calm and craved stability-- a well-rooted life with a good foundation and all the questions answered. Uncertainty didn’t sit well with her. 

“Where are you going?” she asked Rhaegar with doe-brown eyes as he got out of the shower, “I thought you had today free.” Elia was dressed in a pink bra and a pair of blue shorts because it was the middle of June and devilishly hot outside. It felt like she was in a constant state of perspiration. 

“I forgot I had a lunch-meeting,” he shook his head apologetically, running a hand through his damp, silver-gold curls and moving toward her. He was only wearing a towel around his hips, and gods forgive her, but she was _lacking._

The reason as to why she was _especially_ lacking was because she was in a constant state of arousal now and Rhaegar just _wouldn’t_ put her out of her misery because it made him feel weird. He’d behaved similarly during the time she was pregnant with Rhaenys, but they were younger back then and more horny, she guessed so he got over it. But now… now he would yap on about how it felt wrong to do it and she’d sympathised with him… to an extent. Then, one time he’d told her _‘What if like… I nudge it during--”_ Elia couldn’t stop herself from giggling, even before he finished. That he’d believed such absurdities. Well; she’d been a bit cruel with her reply, snorting and saying _‘First of all; that’s a common myth and secondly; you think your dick is big enough for that? How cute.'_ He’d barely talked to her for a week after that comment. Her husband could really play the silent game when he wanted to.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Rhaegar broke her out of her thoughts, smiling handsomely and leaning down to kiss her lips. Using the opportunity, Elia may have slyly grabbed his hair and hooked her legs around his waist, leaning back down onto the bed, dragging Rhaegar with her. He played along for a while, then their session turned a little too heated as she may have… discarded his towel and expertly slid her shorts down-

“No,” he whispered but it didn’t sound like anything more than a groan, “I’ll be late.” 

“Reschedule,” she breathed and thought she _finally_ had him. That he’d let go of that weird mindset and put her out of her misery. Alas, no. 

“I’m sorry babe,” he murmured, moving away to pick up the discarded towel, wincing as he heard Elia’s sigh. 

She wanted to cry and okay; maybe she was being dramatic but she was flustered, red-faced, the temperature of mid-June was through the roof and she just wanted some dick! Could one really fault her? Therefore, she stood up, gave him and his perfect body the evil eye, moved to grab a pair of panties and a sports-bra.

“Where are you going?” Rhaegar asked, in the middle of putting on a pair of black slacks to accompany his white button-up. 

“I’m going to take a shower!” she hissed, retreating to the bathroom and maybe slamming the bathroom door closed with a bit too much force. Her husband knew very well what that meant. He’d watched her in the act a few times because he was into voyeuristic shit like that. It added spice to his vanilla regime. 

***

Rhaegar Targaryen was nowhere to be found after her shower, which meant that Elia would be alone until Arthur dropped Rhaenys off from kindergarten. He’d offered to do it the previous night, because he’d be in the neighborhood and she’d gratefully accepted. It was convenient as hell, he was already on the pick-up list. 

_Everyone_ and when Elia said _everyone;_ she meant _everyone_ thirsted over Arthur and Rhaegar at that bloody kindergarten. It didn’t matter if they were old, young, married, childless or male-- they fucking loved it when the Targaryen girl’s _dad_ or _uncle Arthur_ picked her up. The Dornishwoman understood it, they were attractive as hell but sometimes and especially now.. She felt the need to mark her territory a bit. Rhaegar was her husband and Arthur was his fine-ass best-friend. Elia’s by default. Right? 

Anyway; Rhaenys Targaryen delighted in the attention she was given and loved it when her dad or Arthur showed up-- Always proudly announcing that _‘Athu is here!’_ or _‘Look, it’s daddy!’_ and then proceeding to jump into the silver-haired men’s arms. Her daughter was like that, having everyone wrapped around her little-finger without knowing it. 

Putting those thoughts aside; it was time for self-care, which usually meant that she’d apply a facemask, make herself a smoothie and watch a shitty rom-com. Today it was a tea-tree facemask from the body shop, a strawberry and banana smoothie, as well as Bridget Jones’s diary playing on the TV, with the fan on. 

Honestly, she was thriving and felt the irritation from earlier leave her. 

“You’re not toxic,” she reassured herself through the mirror on the wall, _“They’re_ toxic.” Then she laughed at herself and wondered if she’d soon get a schizophrenia diagnosis. The movie passed quite quickly and she found herself extremely invested in the love-triangle, only moving away to wash her face clean of the face-mask. Then, a few moments after it’d finished and she was about to put on the second one, the doorbell rang. 

Stepping out of the quite uncomfortable couch, she opened the door and was met by Rhaenys squealing and throwing herself from Arthur’s arms, into her mother’s embrace. _Always the theatrical one._

“Mama,” her daughter whined, “Look! We made bracelets today.” At that, the little girl showed her arm dangling with an assortment of mis-matched plastic beads, held together by a thin, elastic band. _That’s going to break and it’ll be hell when it does._ Nonetheless, she was determined to be a supportive mother, however much the bracelets seemed to burn her eyes.

“Wow, isn’t that beautiful,” she smiled, giving Arthur a knowing look. He seemed to share the distaste for the bracelets. 

“Come on,” she backed out of the way and motioned for Arthur to come inside, or else the neighbors would probably spend afternoon tea talking about how Elia Martell was greeting strange men in her underwear, while her husband was out making an honest living. The silver-haired man grinned tiredly and stepped inside. 

“It’s so hot outside,” he shook his head, unbuttoning his shirt, removing it and placing it on a table. They were pretty dysfunctional as friends and didn’t have any qualms about being lightly-dressed in front of each other. Elia chalked it up to them having grown up in Dorne, where restrictions were pretty chill and they’d even bathed in the Water Gardens together. They didn’t find it weird but Rhaegar would sometimes jokingly tell her to get dressed and that it wasn’t a brothel. Arthur would always give her a roll of the eyes at that and punch Rhaegar’s shoulder, making her laugh. 

“Gods, tell me about it,” she muttered, kissing the top of Rhaenys’s head, walking up the stairs with Arthur trailing behind her, “I’ve been in a constant state of humidity.” 

“I never thought I’d say this,” the man groaned, “But I want winter. Or at least fall! I was gushing like a waterfall just walking to and from the car.” 

“Careful what you wish for,” she grinned, opening the door to Rhaenys’s room, “Is it time for your nap now?” Elia turned her attention upon the child in her arms. 

“I’m tired,” Rhaenys nodded, an adorable vision in her lilac sundress, with the brown curls of hair bouncing about her shoulders and the lovely, lavender eyes. 

Elia loved that about her daughter. Rhaenys just _loved_ to sleep, it was almost a favorite pastime of hers. She wasn’t like other kids; unruly, rambunctious and rebellious; on the contrary; Rhaenys did what she was told most of the time and although she had a sneaky streak, she never caused any major trouble and always slept through the nights. Elia couldn’t have been more blessed with that one. 

“Alright,” the Dornishwoman murmured gently, dressing Rhaenys in a nightgown instead and placing her in the bed; making sure to put the fan on low. 

“Will you wake me up when spongebob comes on?” For such a young child, the girl could really articulate herself. 

“Yes, my love,” Elia smiled, kissing her daughter’s cheek, “I will wake you up in time to watch the new episode of spongebob.” At that, Rhaenys smiled contentedly and looked at Arthur who was by the doorway.

“Night, uncle Athu.” With a fond smile, the silver-haired man who looked like he could be her father too, moved to crouch down by the bed, kissing Rhaenys’s temple.

“Sleep tight, kiddo,” he chuckled and then they closed the door and went downstairs. Her daughter was very independent when it came to sleeping routines. 

“I’m bingeing Bridget Jones’s diary,” she told Arthur as they walked down the stairs, “Wanna continue?” 

“I-” he began but she cut him off, suddenly aware that he might want to do something else than spend the day with his best friend’s pregnant wife. 

“-I’d totally understand if you have other plans, though, don’t feel forc-” 

“Elia!” he chuckled, “Chill. I’d love to.” 

“Oh, good. Let’s order pizza too, I only had a banana for breakfast and then a smoothie.” 

“You’re pregnant!” the man exclaimed, dragging a hand through his hair, “Fuck, you’ve got to eat during the _right_ times.” 

“I know,” she gave him a look, “And I _do._ Today was just a one-off.” 

“I hope so,” he eyed her, “Otherwise I’ll force the entire pizza down your throat.” 

“Oh,” Elia raised an eyebrow, grinning, “Kinky.” She liked to tease him, they had a weird, wholesome relationship like that. 

“You’ve no idea,” he retorted, winking as she snorted. 

***

“I’m so full,” she groaned, adjusting her head in Arthur’s lap, “Like the pro of being pregnant is that I can just let my stomach expand because… I’m pregnant but ugh, I feel like a beached whale.” 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Arthur chuckled as he was munching on his slice of pepperoni pizza. She was pretty sure he’d eaten at least one-and-a-half pizzas at this point and was showing no signs of stopping. She’d managed a large, stuffed crust with pineapples and ham on top. 

At that, she heard her phone pling and duly picked it up. 

**Rhaegar:** Meeting ran late and they wanted to go for drinks after. Couldn’t decline. Will be home late. Love you.

For some reason, the text made her sad, which she blamed on the hormones but she was pissed. He was _supposed_ to have the day off, then he _refused_ to fuck her and now he sends this cryptic-ass text. It wasn’t a vibe and she had count to ten and calm herself. _No crying in front of Arthur, no crying in front of Arthur._

“What’s wrong?” A soft voice inquired and then he was stroking her hair so gently. 

“Nothing,” she sighed, “Rhaegar’s going to be very late.” 

“Again?” Arthur asked, frowning, “It’s the third time this month.” 

“I don’t know,” exhaled, eyes welling up with tears. _This is not the time. This is seriously not the time,_ “He has to work, I guess. It’s why we have all these nice things. I don’t want to be a bitch.” 

“You’re not a bitch,” her husband’s best friend soothed, sitting up to hold her in his arms. He was using his pedagogic, teaching voice for struggling students. Arthur was a college professor, teaching both English and History and she was sure that he had more than his fair share of students begging for extra-credit and tutoring. If her teacher had looked like Arthur, instead of a fifty-five year old bald guy who liked to stare at Melara Sand's ass, then she would’ve, as well. 

“I’m just a mess right now,” she laughed shakily, wrapping her arms around his, keeping him there. He understood her more than Rhaegar did, sometimes, “And he was _supposed_ to rub coconut oil on my stomach to help with stretch marks because he knows I _hate_ the consistency of it when I’m pregnant. And I just want him to touch me, he’s always fucking gone.” Her rant that consisted of shit-talking her husband to his best-friend probably wasn’t the best idea, but she needed to vent. She always kept it inside until it exploded. 

“Calm down,” Arthur whispered against her ear, “Deep breath in and out.” Elia followed his directions, giggling at the severity in his tone, “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he began, holding her tightly, the way she needed to be held. 

“What?”

“We’re going to wake Rhaenys up, feed her and put on a spongebob episode. Then, we’re going to just chill and after she’s gone to bed again, which should be in about,” he checked his golden watch, “Four or five-ish hours. The heat will make her tired and I will help you with that coconut shit for the stretch-marks you don’t even have because you’re three months along and barely showing.” 

“You’d do that for me?” Elia asked, turning to look at him. 

“Of course I would,” he shook his head, “You’re my friend, Elia.” 

***

Rhaenys Targaryen went out like a light, five hours later, like Arthur Dayne had said she would. She’d been fed leftover pizza, a glass of apple-juice and then… for some odd reason she requested warm milk and that seemed to do the trick… well that and the food-coma the pizza induced. Elia tucked her in at nine p.m, snug as a bug in a rug. Rhaegar _still_ wasn’t home and the sky had turned a lovely shade of purple and orange and setting suns. 

“Well, is this it?” Arthur asked, inspecting the jar of coconut oil as they were seated on the couch, looking hilariously domestic. Him; with his shirt off, only wearing a pair of khaki-colored slacks and Elia; in her go-to blue shorts and sports bra of the matching color. 

“Yes,” she nodded, “I went through like five or six jars of those during my pregnancy with Rhaenys. I put it _everywhere_ and it lowkey worked.” She still had a few marks but they weren’t as vivid or prominent as they would’ve been without all the lotions and oils she drenched herself in. 

“Let’s get to it then,” the Dayne grinned and had conveniently placed a few tissues of paper on the table, so that he’d be able to wipe his hands without turning every door-knob into an oil-refinery, “On your back.” 

“What a first,” she grinned and did as he asked, earning a roll of the eyes from Arthur Dayne.

“So depraved,” he shook his head and took a scoop of oil and began gently massaging it into her sides and stomach.

“That feels nice,” she sighed and closed her eyes in bliss, feeling like a cat being petted, enjoying the sensation of his surprisingly gentle hands. 

“I bet it does,” Arthur snorted and continued on like that in a comfortable silence. He was touching her the way she wished Rhaegar would, a caress that showed he was there at least. Her husband had been so distant in a way lately. He was there, next to her but always so far away. 

She was half-asleep by the time he was finished, only waking to the soft hand brushing her cheek and voice telling her to wake up. 

“I hope I was of use, m’lady,” Arthur joked, causing her to smile softly.

“You were, valiant Arthur,” she joined in, “Thank you.” 

“It was nothing,” he told her casually, “But now I have to wipe this goo off of my hands.” 

“It’ll make your hands soft,” Elia murmured, sitting up to meet smiling, violet eyes. The same shade as Ashara’s. 

Rhaegar came home just as Arthur was twisting the lid to the coconut oil back on. He looked a bit disheveled, with a few buttons undone but he’d been out drinking and it was too hot to function outside, so Elia didn’t think much of it. 

“Did I miss the party?” he asked dryly and didn’t look too pleased by their obvious lack of modesty. She didn’t give a shit, he was _more_ than late.

“Yes, come join,” she sighed, not wanting him to know that she was petty because she didn’t have arguments except emotional ones to back her up. Rhaegar was always more head than heart, anyway, “Obligatory shirt-off.” 

“Hey bro,” Arthur greeted Rhaegar with that weird half-hug thing that men do, clapping him on the back. 

“Hey,” Rhaegar smiled but he looked a bit out-of-it. 

“Do you want some water?” she asked gently, earning a nod from her husband.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” 

After Rhaegar had finished his water and they’d made a bit more small-talk, it was almost twelve p.m and Arthur had classes in the morning. 

“Guess I better head out then,” he smiled, eyes a clear violet in the light of the kitchen.

“Loved having you here,” she murmured, giving him a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, also leaving to retrieve his shirt as he said his goodbyes to Rhaegar. 

“Here,” Elia beamed at Arthur, not noticing the way Rhaegar Targaryen appraised her soft beauty, the flush in her cheeks, giving life to the rest of her. He felt a bit guilty, for reasons his wife did not yet know.

“Thanks, Ells,” the silver-haired man grinned and then he was gone, leaving only the memory of his presence behind. 

“Do you want to take a bath?” Rhaegar asked, having snuck up behind her as she closed the front-door, face buried in her shoulder. 

“We both showered earlier,” she sighed, feeling his hands wander from her shoulders to grazing her breasts, “And Arthur just finished rubbing all the coconut oil in, water would ruin the effort.” 

“He-he did what?” her husband inquired sharply, turning her around to face him. 

“Don’t make mountains out of molehills, Rhaegar,” Elia bristled, _“You_ were supposed to do it but then you left me alone for the entire day and show up at almost twelve p.m. Don’t blame Arthur for stepping up.” 

“I don’t think my best-friend, lathering my pregnant wife up in coconut oil, as he is half-naked and you’re in what basically amounts to a bra and panties is what I’d refer to as ‘stepping up.”’ He was irked now, she could tell from the set line of his jaw and the blue-purple storm in his indigo eyes, “I don’t want him touching you like that. You’re _my_ wife, not his.” 

“Don’t be like that,” she shook her head, “Not now. Not when you’ve been shoving me aside for months. I want you,” she shook her head, tears threatening to fall, “I want you to touch me. To just hold me. To understand me. But you’re gone all the time and I know I’ve no right to be angry, because you’re out there providing for our family. You were the one who told me to quit my job. I would’ve gladly continued if it meant you wouldn’t work over-time. Your family is old-money, you earn more than five doctors a year and that’s not even counting your inheritance and all your rich-kid trust-funds!” She felt a tear slide down her cheek and all the things bubbling somewhere in the deep of her came to surface, like an exploding volcano and it wasn’t pretty. Wrenching out of his grasp, she moved to walk upstairs, “So go fuck yourself and stop acting as if you’ve a right to tell me what to do because I always seem to listen and I don’t know why!” Rhaegar was taken-aback by the outburst and simply stared at his wife, anger swirling into confusion, then sadness and at last; guilt. 

“Okay don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” she told herself in front of the mirror in their bedroom, after she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth, wiping away the stray tears that fell. She made a duck-face and threw up peace signs before getting into bed and turning the lights off. It was a sort of routine; look good when you feel your worst. Sleep didn’t come easy though, it never did after arguments like those. It always haunted her, after. The things she _didn’t_ say. The things she _did_ say. 

As she laid covered in the silky, red sheets, with one leg out because otherwise it was too hot to handle, Rhaegar entered but she pretended to be asleep. She didn’t want his half-apologies and knew they’d never be sincere. Rhaegar never backed down if he thought he was right and only saying he’s sorry for show would make her even more angry and sad. He didn’t say anything though, only sighed deeply and went into the bathroom. Elia heard him put the faucet one, the familiar sound of the electric tooth-brush. Then, he was out and she closed her eyes, feigning sleep once more. 

A bit of shuffling was heard and she presumed he was continuing his routine of stripping down to his boxers but there was no way of telling, with her back to him. Then, he was behind her, a large hand reaching out to cradle the slight bump on her stomach, face buried in the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply. Rhaegar began placing small butterfly kisses there, trailing down her shoulder. 

“I _know_ you’re awake,” he murmured, hand drifting down, inside her shorts and- 

“You can’t fix it like this!” she gasped, turning her head but Rhaegar didn’t want to hear it, instead he kissed her as she moved to speak, drowning out all of her words. He was good at that. 

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, “And I trust you.” He didn’t say he was sorry. He barely ever did but somehow, it endeared her, nonetheless. _Maybe I was being overdramatic. He does work hard,_ she thought as he continued kissing her from the side, removing his hand to drag her shorts down and then her underwear. Elia sat up to remove her sports-bra and looked at Rhaegar through her lashes, brown hair tumbling down her shoulders to her waist. He was biting his lip, silently watching her, determining if she was angry or horny or both.

“You’re not doing this because you’re jealous, are you?” she asked softly,with unsure, brown eyes, “Because you want to make some invisible claim?” Sometimes, she couldn’t tell. She’d never been able to figure Rhaegar Targaryen out. Sometimes she thought she had, ultimately to be proven wrong.

“No,” he shook his head, “I was being a cunt about the no-sex thing, so I read up on it and realised that my arguments were absurd and you being horny all the time is honestly a gift.” 

“Okay,” she moved to lay on her back but Rhaegar stopped her, gently scooting her toward him, motioning for her to wait a second as he removed his boxers. He looked divine in the light of the moon. It accentuated his high cheekbones and full lips, but also made his hair shine like starlight with strands of liquid gold. His pale skin seemed to glimmer and he was so beautiful that it hurt. The way he was looking at her, drinking her in-- it gave her a feeling of ecstasy. How she loved him, how she really did. They weren’t perfect but they tried to make the best of what they had, and that was all that mattered. 

“Here,” he gently urged her and she realised he didn’t want to be particularly bland that night.

“Don’t you want to-” she began but he shook his head, pulling her impossibly close in his lap, head buried in her neck, leaving burning kisses, biting the skin lightly, forming purple bruises.... and shit, this was the hottest thing they’d done in a solid while. It’d been a month since they’d _actually_ slept together. Elia was frantic, moving up and down, searching for more friction and she’d never been a boob-attention kind of gal but she was sensitive as fuck at that point and Rhaegar’s kisses and grazing teeth felt really, really nice, she had to admit. 

“I love you,” she whispered and cupped his face, leaning down to kiss his lips, “So much.” 

“I love you too, Elia,” he moaned quietly. They were pros at this, considering they were parents of a sneaky toddler. But also because they’d both spent a good few years after they learned how to masturbate, in their rooms in the middle of the night, searching for a brief relief or just help to sleep, doing it like a silent psychopath with one goal. Elia thought she’d been the only one but when Rhaegar had told her he’d done that too, she realised it was probably more common than she thought.

She was so turned on that it was crazy and Rhaegar looked two seconds away from coming each time she looked at him. 

“Faster,” he whined, kissing her jaw-line sloppily, moving down her neck. 

“Mhm,” Elia hummed and did what she was told, holding onto Rhaegar like he was raft and in less than a minute they were both gone-- absolutely _wrecked._ She’d actually finished faster than him this time and that was a rare event.

“Oh my gods,” Elia Martell whined, clenching her thighs and enjoying the aftermath of what had just occurred, leaning her forehead against Rhaegar’s, who in turn chuckled and nodded. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, and she noticed his chest was slightly damp and glistening, it’d been intense, to say the least. “That was epic.” 

“I don’t think we’ve fucked like that for years,” she shook her head. It’d always been a comfortable sort of lay between them. Sweet, soft. He wasn’t the rough type but she was sure she’d have bruises on her hips and an assortment of marks gracing her skin, come tomorrow.

“I think we should do that again, lots of times, forever,” her husband murmured, kissing her lips softly, as Elia nodded and moved to the bathroom. It wasn’t worth a UTI, no matter how good the sex. 

To her surprise, Rhaegar was still awake when she returned and crawled into bed, beside him. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, pulling her close to his chest with one hand, the other drifting to caress her body. 

“You always seem to,” she murmured, feeling a kiss to her temple. 

“Tomorrow I’ll take the day off,” Rhaegar whispered, “I’ll drop Rhaenys off at kindergarten, all you need to do is rest up.” 

“Huh, are we doing anything special?” she idly wondered, her mind a foggy mess. It was that post-sex blissful kind of empty. 

“No,” he chuckled and she could feel his chest vibrate with the sound, it inspired a deep sort of love in her chest, “We’re going to be in this exact room until it’s time to pick her up.” 

“Oh,” Elia understood, finding a pleased smile eclipsing her features, “And what are we to do?” 

“Well.. a multitude of things. I’m going to give you a really nice massage because you’re a fucking queen and then; we’re going to have mind-blowing sex,” he whispered, placing kisses down the side of her neck, “Again and again and again.” It surprised her slightly, as Rhaegar was such a… _lagom_ kind of guy. _Lagom_ was a Swedish word Arthur had told her about once, after he’d come across it online. There was no word for it in English, but it basically translated to “Just enough” and in a scale of easy and hard, it would be the middle. No more, no less-- just right. But now he wanted to _exceed_ that limit and honestly; she was not opposed toward that prospect. 

“Sounds like a plan,” she grinned, her entire sadness washed away like sand on a shore. It would always be there, under the surface but for now; it’d retreated and all would be well. 

She hoped it’d be, at least. She really loved Rhaegar.

“Great,” he smiled and yawned lightly. Wow, they were really domesticated, weren’t they? Only parents of a young child could make plans in advance of having great sex and then say ‘great’ when it was decided. “Goodnight, Ellie.” He hadn’t called her that since College.

“Night, my silver prince,” she teased, reverting to an old College nickname of his, too. 

Her husband didn’t reply, he simply smiled with his indigo eyes closed and held her tighter.


	4. When Elia got Rhaegar arrested.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, baby,” Elia told her daughter, lifting the girl up into her arms. Rhaenys looked adorable as she slept, completely untroubled. She won’t remember this, the dornishwoman took comfort in knowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little drabble on that time Elia got Rhaegar's ass arrested. It was a bit intense to write tbh. Hope y'all enjoy it! Don't forget to drop a comment and a kudos if you're enjoying this little extra series. (and don't forget to check out the original series)
> 
> Until next time,  
> <3

Rhaegar was angry, enraged even and he was drunk. Neither factor made for a pleasant combination. 

“What the fuck are you on about now?” He yelled from the kitchen, shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes like violent, indigo seas. They’d been fighting a lot lately because… both of them just seemed to blow their fuses around each other lately. 

“Be home when you say you’ll be home and if you’re going to be wasted; don’t show up at all!” Elia hissed back at him, “I’m fucking tired of it, Rhaegar! You’re a father now, not some college frat-boy!” 

“You’re one to fucking speak!” the silver-haired man retorted, moving so close to her that she could see his blood-shot eyes. _Is he high as well?_ “I don’t say shit when you’re off on your wine-nights with Ashara, and my mother, for some fucking reason!” 

“That’s _not_ the same,” the Dornishwoman shook her head, wrapping her blue cardigan tighter around her body, “I don’t show up at three a.m, drunk out of my mind _and_ high, you’re high, aren’t you?” she spit, “You always find new ways to disappoint me, Rhaegar.” she turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist, keeping her there. 

“You’re always fucking nagging, Elia and I’m sick of it! There’s just no way to please you, is there?” 

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” the small woman wrenched her hand out of his grasp defiantly, just to have him trap her against the wall. She refused to look at him, disliked it, no, hated it when he acted like this.

“There you go,” he spit, “Always making me the bad guy. I’m _always_ the monster and you’re the holier-than-thou saint. I’m trying but you _constantly_ make it so fucking hard!” 

“I don’t make you out to be anything other than what you are, Rhaegar,” she weakly tried to push him away, brown eyes filling with furious tears that she tried not to let escape down her cheeks, “You missed Rhaenys’s appointment today. I told you to be there, I fucking told you!”

“And I told you I had work!” he banged the wall next to them with his hand, making her flinch, “That you could bring Ashara, or even Arthur if you wanted someone there that bad! It’s only her two-year check-up!” 

“He’s not her god-damned father! You are!” Elia exclaimed, using the element of surprise to push him away from her, trying to get out of his vicinity. When Rhaegar was angry, it was best to let him cool off, because otherwise he’d keep on going and she didn’t have the energy for it. Not tonight, not when the doctor had scared her so terribly by saying that Rhaenys looked to be low on red blood-cells. 

Anemia was a symptom of leukemia and even though it was only the one, the doctor had sent the girl’s blood to the lab for an analysis. He’d said it could end up being nothing and that they’d get back with the results. There was nothing to do but wait, but she’d _needed_ Rhaegar. She’d needed him to be there so fucking bad. But he hadn’t answered the phone all day; left her crying voicemails from the sterile hospital waiting-room unopened. Then; stumbled in drunk like that and she was furious, to a hellish extent.

 _It wouldn’t even do me any good to tell him now,_ the dornishwoman knew, and didn’t want to tell him when he was drunk and high or whatever. 

“Where are you going?” He followed her, trying to grab her arm as she hurried up the stairs. 

“We’re leaving for the night,” _or two, or three or four,_ she hit back, tears streaming down her cheeks as she thought of Rhaenys crying, earlier in the day. _She said ‘It’s fine, mama’ but when they stuck the needle in her little arm…_ the girl’s too-large, lavender eyes had overflowed with crystalline tears, like a broken faucet that overfilled. 

“No you’re not,” he told, no, commanded her, his presence engulfing hers as he followed her up the stairs, slightly wobbling. 

“Don’t try me, Rhaegar!” Elia shook her head, heart beating out of pure rage as she entered their bedroom, grabbing a duffle bag and quickly filling it with whatever clothes she could pull out of the drawers. 

Rhaenys could go as she was, and there were convenience stores around Ashara’s neighborhood, where they could grab whatever was necessary. Elia just wanted to get out because she couldn’t breathe when Rhaegar was like this. He seemed to rip into her chest and take the air right out of her lungs, leaving only weak debris behind. 

“You’re _not_ leaving!” he told her, trying to snatch the black nike bag out of her hands and she went ahead and slapped him. Hard. Violently. It was wrong, but happened so fast that it seemed like a reflex. Her husband looked taken aback and finally quieted, clutching his scarlet cheek with an indiscernible look in his eyes that scared her. 

Slowly, the man, or the beautiful disaster that he was, began walking toward her, making the dornishwoman move backward until her back touched the grey wall. Elia didn’t want to look at him and kept her brown gaze fixed on the marble floor with gold accents and black swirls, until she felt his large and slightly calloused hand grab the sides of her face hard, slightly squishing her mouth together-- forcing her to meet his eyes. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her lips.

“You will _never_ do that to me again,” Rhaegar told her slowly, coldly almost, repeating himself to make sure that his wife understood, “Never, do you hear me?” Not that she’d want to, Elia had regretted the action as soon as it had occurred. 

She’d never been scared of Rhaegar hitting her. They’d always had explosive fights, but when he was drunk, it made her wary of the man. Not that she expected him to hit her, but she would always try to calm herself and lash out when he was sober, instead. When he would be predictable and not an angry cloud of indigo. Tonight; she’d forgotten not to push his buttons or bite back, because of what had happened with Rhaenys and how worried, as well as angry that she was at him. _It wasn’t just a two-year check-up._

“Mommy?” came a voice from beside her and Rhaegar instantly let go of his wife, instead turning to his daughter with a drunk smile. 

“Com-”

“-Come here, Rhaenys,” Elia told the girl, opening her arms before the silver-haired man had time to finish his sentence. _If he holds her, he’ll never let us go._ Dutifully, the girl wobbled to her mother, a mop of brown curls and unicorn pyjamas. 

“Don’t be sad,” the girl took out her purple pacifier and murmured once she was in her mother’s arms, wiping at Elia’s cheeks with her little hands. 

“I’m not sad, darling,” the brown-haired woman soothed, although her voice was shaky, breaking at the ends and the tears wouldn’t leave her be, “I’m not sad,” she whispered again, holding Rhaenys close to her chest and kissing the top of the girl’s head. When she looked at Rhaegar, the man looked about two seconds from passing out and she just wanted to get out and let him recover on his own. At that, Elia carefully slung the duffle bag around her other shoulder, still holding the daughter in her arms. 

“Now we’re going to visit uncle Oberyn,” she told the lavender-eyed child, “Won’t that be fun?” She didn’t want to tell Rhaegar that they were really going to Ashara’s, because he’d look for her. _I want to be alone for a few days._

“You’re not, Elia,” he told her steelily, his voice slightly wavy, grabbing her arm.

“Daddy coming too?” the girl asked, frowning confusedly at Rhaegar.

“No, sweetie,” Rhaenys’s mother shook her head, pulling out of the man’s grasp and trying to hurry down the stairs, feeling for the phone in her pocket, “He’s not coming.” 

“We’ll solve this like a family, Elia,” he slurred, “I’m not letting you leave with her, she’s my daughter too!” 

“Learn to act like it,” the Dornishwoman hissed, searching for her keys. _Where did I put them, where did I put them?_ Then; she saw them on the kitchen-counter, but Rhaegar had seen her making eyes at them and hurried toward them before she could. 

“Put her back to bed,” he told his wife, “We’ll talk.” The talking always turned to a screaming-match between them when he was drunk, “Do as I fucking say, Elia. I’m done with these games.” 

“I swear to the gods, Rhaegar,” she picked up her phone, dialling 911, “I’ll call the fucking police on you.” Not realising that she’d actually pressed ‘call’, an operator picked up. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” the silver-haired man damn-near lunged at them to get that phone out of her hands. 

“Put it down!” he almost growled, wrenching it out of her hands and hanging up, “Are you crazy or just stupid? I haven’t done shit to you!” 

“Why is daddy mad?” Rhaenys whimpered in Elia’s embrace, beginning to cry. _Fuck, I’m crying too,_ she realised. The day had been too stressful by far and the man in front of her wasn’t making it any easier. 

“Daddy’s just a bit unwell, baby, which is why we’re going to Oberyn’s,” she soothed, eyeing Rhaegar sharply, “Give me the keys!” 

“Leave her here,” he countered, eyeing Rhaenys.

“You’re drunk!” Gods, she hated finding him like this, “You can’t take care of her! I’m her mother!” 

“I’m her father!” he countered and Rhaenys began crying again. Elia felt exhausted and tired, it was like arguing with a child.

“We’ll come back,” she tried to ease his worries. _Of course he fears we never will, that’s why he’s like this. He wants something that’ll anchor me to him and has chosen our daughter._ He’d completely neglected the fact of how she, for some gods-forsaken reason, still loved him and would stay with him. _Just not like this. Not tonight._ Elia didn’t want to have to clean up his own mess. 

“Not if you don’t leave,” he slurred, softly trying to stroke her shoulder, “Let’s go to bed.” 

“You’re missing the point!” she hissed, trying to soothe a sobbing Rhaenys at the same time, it was giving her quite the headache, “You keep fucking up! I won’t take it anymore!”

“And you’re so perfect yourself?” he sneered, “Stop trying to villainize me!” 

“You’re doing a great job of that on your own!” They kept on moving in those circles of the blame-game for a few more minutes, releasing all of their frustrations, as Elia tried to soothe the child in her arms, as well. Then, a knock on the door was heard and in his drunken state; Rhaegar yelled, “Not now!” 

“Police, open up!” a voice called from beyond the front-door, where they had been standing and arguing. Rhaegar seemed to pale as Elia moved to open the door.

“Officers,” she mumbled, stepping aside for the two of them to enter. They took one look at her tear-streaked face and the sobbing Rhaenys in her arms, and collectively sighed. 

“There was a worrying call made from this location, our operators tracked it. From the sounds outside; it appears you two have been arguing,” the taller of the two explained. He had brown hair and bright, green eyes that looked kind, “Now, ma’am, if you could please explain the situation.” 

“I-” she faltered, eyeing Rhaegar. _I don’t want to say anything that could incriminate him._

“-Nothing’s wrong. We were simply having a disagreement,” her husband beat her to it, seeming to have sobered up, or at least acting like it, but he was having trouble focusing, she could tell, “She wanted to take my daughter,” he told them instead. The rage that had previously been buried by the sadness; now came to the surface. _Oh, fuck him! His dad can buy him out of jail, for all I care!_

“He’s drunk!” she exclaimed, “And high!” 

“Obtaining marijuana in any shape or form is considered a criminal offense,” one of the officers looked at Rhaegar.

“She’s lying!” he told them, “She’s just pissed I missed an appointment.” 

“Our daughter may have leukemia, I’m not pissed about a missed appointment! I’m pissed you’re twenty-three and can’t take your role as a father seriously!” The dornishwoman vented, feeling warm tears trickle down her cheeks, “And he took my keys,” she told them, “He won’t let me leave. I can’t be around him when he’s like this!” 

“I think we may have to take a trip down to the precinct,” the shorter and blonde officer looked at Rhaegar, who shook his head. 

“For what? I haven’t done anything wrong!” Then he looked at Elia, “And what the fuck are you on about? Leukemia?” She didn’t even want to look at him. 

“Gary, grab the breathalyzer from the car,” the blonde one told his co-worker, who nodded and then there was a sort of stale silence, where Rhaegar would almost lose his balance and have to lean against the wall, at times. 

“Here, blow in this,” Gary said upon his return, “If it’s clean, we’ll leave you be and take your wife wherever she wants to go. If it’s not; We’ll take you down to the precinct, so you can spend a night in the drunk-cells to sober up and for a tox-screen, then we’ll properly search you and what we find will determine whether you will be forwarded to jail and indicted for a criminal offense.” 

Rhaegar proceeded to blow into the breathalyzer and whatever was on there must have been confirming Elia’s statement, because Gary shook his head and nodded toward the blonde one. 

“Come on, let’s get down to the station,” he sighed. 

“No,” her husband shook his head, drawing the word out slightly, “I’m not, I- I haven’t done anything.” 

“You can _choose_ to go, or we can _make_ you go and put handcuffs on you.” 

“I demand a lawyer, you can’t make me do this. It’s not illegal to-to- drink a little.”

“Pat him down, Alex,” Gary told his colleague as Elia watched silently, Rhaenys having cried herself to exhaustion and then; sleep, in her mother’s embrace. 

“Stand straight,” the officer told Rhaegar, who began struggling slightly and paled as they went through his pockets, one by one. 

“Well that wasn’t hard,” Gary shrugged, eyeing the small bag of what was clearly marijuana “Sir; you are under arrest for possession of an illegal substance. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.” 

“No-I- That’s not mine!” the man exclaimed, backing away from them, “Someone must have put it there, I-” It was honestly pathetic, if Elia was being serious. 

“Don’t make us add resisting arrest to your charges, sir,” Alex told her husband as he tried to handcuff him. 

After Rhaegar had been taken away, Gary remained, telling her to sit down. 

“Ma’am, I will now take your statement of the events that occurred this eve. First off; Do you have any accusations you would like to lay against your husband?” 

“No,” she shook her head. Rhaegar was a good man, but a bad drunk. Even so; she’d been the one to put her hands on him. Sober. After that; she told the tale of how he’d arrived home, drunk and high-- as well as of the fight that ensued. 

When they were done; she offered him a cup of coffee out of courtesy, to which he declined. Then; he told her that information on what would happen next would arrive within the next few days. 

“He’ll most likely have to be put into county jail, until the weekend is over and he can face a judge for his charges.” A weekend. That would give her time to think. It was a bit absurd; she’d gotten Rhaegar arrested without intending to. 

“Thank you, officer,” Elia told him softly and earned a nod in return. The man then looked at Rhaenys’s sleeping form on the couch and shook his head, sighing. 

“Sometimes, holding on hurts more than letting go,” he mumbled.

“He’s harmless,” she shrugged, tears burning behind her eyelids, “He’s just a fucking idiot sometimes.” 

“Please take care, ma’am,” Gary gently patted her shoulder, turning to leave.

“Bye,” she whispered, closing the door after him. 

“Come on, baby,” Elia told her daughter, lifting the girl up into her arms. Rhaenys looked adorable as she slept, completely untroubled. _She won’t remember this,_ the dornishwoman took comfort in knowing, _and maybe going to jail will teach Rhaegar not to do this again._ She almost laughed at the mental image of her husband in an orange jumpsuit. _I’ll have to frame his mugshot._ At that; she continued upstairs, put the little Targaryen to bed and returned to her own, empty and cold one. 

_Ashara’s probably asleep, so it won’t do me any good to call her. Oberyn would just get angry and start cursing Rhaegar out._ She didn’t feel like she had the energy to listen to that, when she’d spent an hour doing it herself. Instead; the dornishwoman went into the bathroom, washed her face and braided her dark hair, then putting on a green nightgown and robe. It was like 5 a.m by now and Elia was exhausted. It’d been a giant fuck-up of a day and she passed out as soon as the reading-lamp was turned off. 

***

A hand playing with her hair pulled Elia out of a deep sleep and when she opened her eyes; large, lavender ones met hers. 

“Baby, when did you get here?” the dornishwoman asked her daughter softly, placing a quick kiss on the girl’s little nose. 

Not answering, the child snuggled further into her mother’s embrace, asking, “Where’s daddy?” And that’s when Elia was reminded that what happened last night… _or today technically,_ wasn’t a dream. _Rhaegar’s actually in jail._

“He had to go on a little trip,” she explained softly, “He’ll be back in a few days.” That seemed a good explanation as any, for the young Targaryen. 

“You wanna watch snow-white? Maybe Cinderella?” 

“Myeah,” the girl nodded eagerly and Elia looked at the alarm to her side, noting that she’d only slept four hours. The headache she’d get in a few hours would be one for the books, for sure. 

“Come on, then.” So it was that Elia Martell and little Rhaenys Targaryen spent the morning watching animated Disney flicks, while eating ice-cream and stuff they really weren’t supposed to. _It’s just one day, we deserve it,_ she had justified, sighing. The Dornishwoman just wanted to be close to her daughter because the doctor’s appointment still weighed heavily upon her mind. She wouldn’t know what to do if her daughter had something. _She’s too young to be so ill, it’s not right._

At around noon, Elia realised that she hadn’t given anyone a sign of life, neglected to call Ashara for their regular morning-talk and then… _Rhaegar always went running with Arthur on saturdays and now he’s in jail._ It was so hilariously dysfunctional. _Should I call Rhaella? Has Rhaegar already called her?_ She hadn’t turned her phone on and it was probably somewhere on the floor. _Wherever it landed after Rhaegar went crazy on it._

That’s when the doorbell rang. _Huh, odd…_ well everything about her life the past two days had been odd. 

“Wait here,” she told her daughter, gently smiling and getting up from the couch to pad over to the front-door. When she opened it, blinding violet eyes met hers and it was Arthur… dressed for a run. _Weird that he came here… Wait, no it’s not. Rhaegar hasn’t answered any of his calls._

“Arthur,” she greeted, stepping aside to let him in. 

“Elia,” he beamed, then seeing Rhaenys cuddled up on the couch, snug as a bug in a rug in that blanket, “And little Rhaenys.” 

“You want coffee or anything?” Elia inquired, thinking that she desperately needed one, too. 

“Yeah sure, maybe after our run, though. Where’s that husband of yours? Is he still sleeping? I texted him but he hasn’t replied, so I thought I’d make my way down here to annoy him.” 

“You should check the county jail,” she shrugged, making Arthur frown as he probably wondered if there was something wrong with his ears. 

“What?” 

“I kind of got him arrested yesterday,” she giggled, “It’s actually a really funny story. Or maybe I’m just saying that so that I can cope wi-” 

“- Slow down, Elia. What happened?” The Dornishwoman looked to Rhaenys who was completely immersed in Cinderella, motioning for Arthur to head inside the kitchen. 

“It’s not that detailed,” she shrugged, putting on the kettle to make coffee for them both, “He showed up drunk and high. We had a really bad fight, I accidentally called the police, two officers ended up arriving. They were just going to take him to the drunk cells, to sleep it out,” she rambled, “Then they searched him and found a bag of pot, and he kind of resisted arrest.” 

“What the actual fuck?” he asked her as she handed him a mug, “This sounds like the plot to some telenovela…” 

“Nope,” she laughed a shrill sound, “Just my life.” 

“Are you alright? So he’s in jail now. Like right now?” 

“Yep, they’re getting him in front of a judge monday, so he’ll be out on bail then.” _Gods know he’s rich enough to afford it,_ “And Aerys will probably just buy the charges away.” 

“Have you talked to him?” 

“No,” Elia pursed her lips, sitting down by the table and taking a sip of the coffee, “And I don’t want to.” 

“He fucked up bad then?” Arthur asked awkwardly. One thing she loved about her husband’s best friend was that he never tried to clean up someone else’s mess or argued on their behalf. _He just accepts what’s said and doesn’t try to change it. He never makes any excuses or tries to act like it automatically is my fault because he’s Rhaegar’s best friend and not mine._ He made her feel as if he was her friend, too. 

“He missed Rhaenys’s check-up,” Elia murmured, “Then he showed up drunk like that and I just… I just lost it.” Her eyes filled with tears again, “I just needed him there, you know? They told me Rhaenys was low on red blood-cells-- anemic. It’s one of the signs for leukemia. I’m just scared.” 

“Hey, shh,” Arthur soothed, moving to place a hand on hers, “It’s fine, it’ll be fine. I’m so sorry he left you like that.” 

“I just want him to step up and be there when I need it. I never ask him for much and for fuck’s sake, he deserved that arrest. Maybe it’ll teach him he’s not in college anymore.” 

“I think it’ll be a wake-up call, for sure,” the Dayne joked lightly, making Elia laugh, despite the heaviness in her heart. 

“Let’s hope,” she agreed, staring into his calm eyes. 

***

Rhaegar called her on the sunday. 

“Hello,” Elia murmured into the phone softly, not quite knowing what to say. Rhaegar didn’t seem to either, because he didn’t speak for a few moments, finally clearing his throat.

“I’ll be home monday.” 

“I know,” she replied, toying with the hems of her robe. It was six p.m, Rhaenys and her had just eaten dinner. The Dornishwoman had made sure to mash some spinach up and prepared foods that were high in iron and good vitamins. 

“How’s Rhaenys?” he asked quietly, sounding very subdued and it made a strange guilt bloom in her chest. _Did he really deserve to go to jail?_

“She’s good. For now.” 

“What do you mean by that, Elia,” he sighed and she could imagine that he was leaning his forehead against the phone-post. 

“If you’d _bothered_ to show up to her appointment, that you called _‘just a two-year check-up’_ you’d know that she was worryingly low on red-blood cells. So much that they decided to send her blood to the lab. Anemia is a sign of leukemia. Maybe you just didn’t get the voicemails of me crying, when you were out having the time of your life.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned weakly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m so sorry, Elia. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“You always are, Rhaegar. You always are.” 

“I’m going to change,” he told her, “I swear it won’t happen again.” 

“Don’t _tell_ me, _show_ me,” Elia began coldly, “Or I swear to the gods; I’ll fucking leave you, Rhaegar.” 

“Can you get her on the phone? I don’t have much time but I just want to hear her. Please, Elia,” he pleaded, voice hoarse. 

“Hang on,” the dornishwoman murmured, moving from her bedroom into Rhaenys’s room, where the girl was coloring in her book happily. 

“Baby,” Elia began gently, “Daddy wants to talk to you.” 

“Daddy mad?” the child wondered and it broke Elia’s heart. She could imagine that it tore at Rhaegar’s even more

“No, sweetie. He’s not mad, he wants to say hi before he comes back tomorrow.” That made a gleeful smile appear on Rhaenys’s face as Elia put it on speaker. 

“Daddy,” the girl acknowledged, waiting for a reply. 

“Hey honey,” Rhaegar began, “Whatcha’ doing?” 

“She’s coloring, isn’t she?” Elia butted in, “Tell daddy what you’re coloring.” 

“Cat,” the girl babbled, “Lucifer.” 

“Lucifer from Cinderella?” Rhaegar asked warmly. 

“Yes!” Rhaenys nodded, even though her father could not see her.

“I have a little gift in mind for you, baby, you’ll see tomorrow,” the Targaryen told his daughter, “Be good for your mother, okay? I love you.” 

“Love you,” the girl replied, smiling. 

Elia picked up the phone again and told her daughter that she’d be right back.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she murmured, sighing, “Do you need a ride or anything?” 

“No,” he replied, “I’ve got it.” 

“Okay,” she acknowledged, not quite knowing what else to say, the silence stretching between them like oceans of solitude. 

“I love you,” he told her, “Please know that.” 

“Goodnight, Rhaegar.” Then, she hung up. Why? Elia didn’t know, but she couldn’t deal with his apologies and declarations of love at that moment. There was too much on her mind. _The doctor will give us the results tomorrow…_

***

Rhaenys didn’t have leukemia, thank the fucking gods. 

“I mailed a few meal-plans and supplements that should help get her red blood-cell count up. Otherwise she’s fine, healthy as a horse-- perfectly following the model-curve for children her age.” 

“Oh, thank you,” Elia sighed, wanting to cry out of pure relief. Her worries had been unfounded. _Rhaenys is fine. She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine._

“No worries, Mrs. Martell,” the doctor replied kindly, “There was no need for concern, after all.” 

After that call, she’d called Ashara and Rhaella to inform them of the happy news. Arthur, too. The Dayne had told his sister of Rhaegar being in jail and Rhaenys’s possible predicament, which had spared Elia from doing it. She’d been too exhausted to talk about it. Rhaella knew as well, but that was because her son had called her himself. The Targaryen woman had most likely given him an ear-full of roasting, which kind of made Elia feel better about it. 

Now, it was noon and even though their maid had thoroughly cleaned the house and it was spotless, Elia found herself nervous-cleaning it again, to take her mind off how Rhaegar was coming back. It would probably be hella awkward. _I mean… I got him arrested. He’s been to jail now. He might have a criminal record, if Aerys doesn’t bribe that away…_ She was rigorously scrubbing the sink and wiping the already-spotless countertops-- spraying windex on the windows. That’s how Rhaegar found her; half her body inside of the house, the other upper-half doing some sort of gymnastic exercise as she wiped the kitchen-windows. 

They were wealthy. They were rich. The neighbors would most likely think Elia was the maid, or just crazy for doing that by herself. She didn’t mind, it allowed her to focus on something else than her perfect-yet-not-so-perfect life. The dornishwoman _did_ hear the front-door unlock, she _did_ hear someone stepping inside but she did _not_ want to act as if she did, for some reason. Then; she saw him through the window she was cleaning. 

“Elia?” Rhaegar asked, probably perplexed as to what the fuck it was she was doing.

“I’m cleaning,” she mumbled, moving back inside to do the other side. 

“It’s already… clean,” and she could visualize him frowning behind her, “We have a maid… they do that.” 

“Well maybe we should try doing things ourselves,” the dornishwoman grumbled, harshly wiping the window. _Rhaenys will be home in three hours,_ Elia suddenly remembered, _Ashara’s picking her up._

“Can you stop that and just _look_ at me?” he asked her, sounding more sad than impatient or angry. Obliging, she finished the window, took off thegloves, jumped down from the counter and faced him. Her husband looked tired, if his disheveled hair and the dark circles underneath his eyes was anything to go by… but he still looked handsome, in that rugged way. Honestly, it kind of pissed his wife off, how he could look like that after a stint in the county jail. They maintained eye-contact for a few moments, not quite knowing what to say; until Rhaegar broke it. 

“I’m out on bail.” 

“Yeah, I kind of noticed that.” 

“My lawyers are working to get this covered up.” 

“I assumed they would.” _Rich people… they never disappoint with what they can get away with. At least he went to jail for a bit, though._

“How’s Rhaenys?” he inquired, rubbing his temples. 

“Doctor called and said she’s fine. He sent some meal-plans and supplements to get her count up.” 

“I’m so fucking sorry I missed it, Elia,” he moved forward in an attempt to hug her, but she moved away, pretending to put the cleaning stuff away. It hurt him, she could see. 

“Don’t miss the next one.” 

“I won’t,” he gently took hold of her wrist, slightly stroking it with his thumb, “I promise.” 

“Good,” Elia murmured as she put away the windex in the cabinet. 

Then, Rhaegar pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, simultaneously rubbing her back. 

“I love you. I’m sorry.” Gods, sometimes she hated how she loved him. Not saying anything; Elia just allowed herself to be held for a few moments. Something seemed to break in her after a while, though and she just started… sobbing. It was quiet at first, just small quivers, then it grew more out-of-control and she became a whole-ass mess. 

“I don’t want you to do that again,” she pulled back and stared at him, voice wavering as tears kept on falling, “You can’t do that again. Or I will fucking leave you.” Rhaegar stared at her worriedly and nodded, grabbing some paper-towel and wiping her tears.

“Don’t cry, please,” he told her and she was trying to stop, but then she thought of Rhaenys’s scare and the way he sometimes acted as if she was crazy and got hung up on the smallest things, and it made her sob even more. 

In the end, he just silently let her cry, all the while wiping away the tears and rubbing her back soothingly. The left side of his blue t-shirt was drenched in tears, but it didn’t really matter at that moment. 

“Come on,” he told her and guided her upstairs. Elia was quite exhausted, so she just allowed him to guide her. The anger and sadness had just turned to an eerie numbness. Then; they entered their grey and silver-themed bathroom. She’d been the one to decorate it and the best feature was the shower, which took up around a fourth of the room, wall to wall. It was like a little room with glass-doors and had in-built streams and all of that jazz. That bathroom was unnecessarily large, but Elia _loved_ it. It was almost too beautiful to be used. It also worked digitally, there was a pad by the wall that you could put in settings and shit in, too. Honestly; so innovative. 

Rhaegar sat her down on the marble-themed toilet and went to turn the shower on. Then, he crouched down by her, stroking her cheek. He looked really worried and loving at the same time, and she couldn’t help but mold against his touch. _This is what he does; he disappoints you, then he loves you and you always let him,_ a corner of her mind whispered. It was because she loved him so fucking much and both of them had their vices, but they tried. They tried so hard and sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. 

He shrugged out of his t-shirt and began unbuttoning her blouse, then unhooking her bra. 

“Come on, up,” he beckoned and slid her black skirt and panties down to a heap on the floor-- discarding his own slacks and boxers in the process. Then; he guided her into the shower and the water was really warm, the way they both enjoyed it. Steam rose up into the ceiling and Rhaegar… he just held her for a really long time and both of them took comfort in that contact, the even breaths and comforting, dim lighting. Sometimes; Elia hated the way she melted against him, the way she always let things go after a while. He just had the power to undo her, to love her like she was made out of both the sun and glass. 

Slowly, she angled her neck upward, to meet his consuming, indigo eyes. The usually silver-gold hair had turned more of a pale blonde in the water.

“I’m sorry I work so much,” he said, stroking her cheek and moving them out of the immediate water-rays, “I’m sorry that I attend these after-work things and get wasted. I’m sorry we fight a lot and that I can’t show you the love that you deserve. I’m not asking you to forgive me, but I’m asking you to allow me to show you that I can do better. I’m gonna try to change my hours and spend more time with you and Rhaenys. I promise.” Elia wanted to believe him, but all of their promises turned to wind after a few months of trying to keep them. Instead; she nodded and Rhaegar Targaryen leaned down to kiss her softly, caressing her body with his hands. 

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he began, smiling slightly when they pulled back for air, “But I got Rhaenys a kitten. He’s a rescue, six months old and named Balerion. We’ve been talking about getting one and I couldn’t leave him behind, after seeing him a few weeks ago. It was going to be a surprise for your birthday, but he’s arriving today, apparently.” 

“You got us a cat,” she mumbled, smiling slightly. Both her and Rhaenys had been adamant in their pursuit of a cat but Rhaegar had always remained slightly iffy about it. _He prefers dogs._

“I did, baby,” he brushed some hair behind her ear, kissing the side of her neck, “And I brought a copy of my mugshot. I knew your ass would want to frame it or something.” 

“You were correct,” the dornishwoman smiled despite herself, “How was it?” 

“Well,” he sighed, “They strip-searched me, which was very traumatic and then… one of the female wardens called me her ‘early morning snack’ and put her hand on my chest. I was stared at… a lot. A few of the inmates called me pet-names and I believe they’d want to make me their bitch… but it’s kind of hard when I’m 200 pounds and four inches taller than most of them.” 

“You’re such a pretty man,” she sighed, “Of course they’d want you to drop your soap.” 

“Oh my gods,” he cringed, “They really _looked_ in the showers, you know? I thought I’d have to tackle someone for my personal safety.” 

“I hear prison’s worse,” she murmured, “At least you’re out now.” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, embracing her and putting his head in the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply, “Orange is not my color.” 

“Mhm,” she murmured, pulling back, only to have him cup her face softly as he stared into her eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful, inside and out.” 

“Is that what you tell your jail-lovers, too?” she joked, earning a pained groan, “Come on, let’s get you clean.” 

And despite everything; things seemed like they might be alright. 

*** 

“There kitty!” Rhaenys pointed at the black cat with large eyes.

“His name’s Balerion,” Rhaegar chimed in, kissing the daughter in his lap’s cheek, grinning from ear-to-ear, “He’s a loving, little thing, go pet him.” Elia was sitting opposite them in Rhaegar and her bed, petting the newest addition until he was a purring ball of black fur. Crawling forward over the bed, Rhaenys Targaryen scooped the cat up into her arms, kissing it lovingly. 

“I love him,” the lavender-eyed girl exclaimed as Balerion began cuddling against her. 

“That’s so cute!” the dornishwoman exclaimed, picking up her digital camera to take a snap-shot of the cat, that was half the size of Rhaenys, all snuggled up with his owner. Rhaegar was in the background of it, too, grinning from ear-to-ear. She’d get a physical copy and use it for their christmas cards or something. 

“Come here,” Rhaegar suddenly told her, scooting both Rhaenys and the cat into his lap, then putting an arm around Elia and grabbing the camera. 

“Say ‘Balerion’” he told them all and took a picture. 

And so; their happiness was immortalized. 

But it is only ever perpetual in pictures.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so take the justice part of this very lightly... I have no experience with the police or the justice system so... it's probably not correct but just let it slide, y'know?


	5. That time Rhaenys got her period in class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here's another chapter and theres *Anotha one* actually on the way for this fic. Idk why I keep feeling inspired to write these lil' drabbles but... here we are. 
> 
> Also there's a lackkkkkk of Arthur/Elia and Elia centered fics, as well as Rhaenys I feel, on here. Honestly I'm parched. 
> 
> Anyway; is it a spoiler if I say some of the stuff in this chapter will be mentioned in the next next chapter of Ain't no rest for the wicked *Laughs evilly* 
> 
> Until then, (I'm off to work)  
> Stay safe.  
> <3

Twelve year-old Rhaenys Targaryen was in the grey cubicle of the girl’s bathroom, during her math class, and she was sobbing. It wasn’t because she’d failed a test, or forgotten to study for one… although the girl never understood how someone could  _ forget  _ to  _ study  _ for a  _ test  _ but life was life and sometimes stuff got in the way. Like today. When she’d gotten her period for the first time.

Okay it wasn’t like she was totally unprepared for it. Although the Targaryen was american… her mother had actually begun preparing her a few months before about what was going to happen… puberty and all that. Rhaenys never understood why women had to go through the suffering of periods for a baby they didn’t yet, or maybe  _ never  _ would want but… biology. The prospect had scared her at first, but then her friends began getting them and she for some weird reason, felt a bit left out and would google stuff like  _ ‘how to get your period’ _ the answer was apparently; eat a lot of yoghurt? 

She’d forgotten about that directly after googling it but then… it finally came.  _ Today. _ And it wasn’t as ‘tiny’ as her mother and google had led her to believe. Actually; Cersei Lannister had, in a surprisingly quiet and discreet manner, pointed out that the back of Rhaenys’s apricot-colored jeans, new, might she add! Well… they had a bit of a stain. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t felt it, but the girl had just silently wished and hoped and prayed to every single god there was… that it wasn’t what she thought. 

To her misfortune; it was. Not thinking; the Targaryen had walked to the front to get a work-sheet, even though it wasn’t that far. Her bench was already like in front of Mr Hightower’s desk. Upon returning; Cersei Lannister, who sat to Rhaenys’s left, leaned in to whisper. 

_ “I think you got your period.”  _

Suffice to say; the brown-haired Targaryen had been mortified… but it’d also been strangely out of character for Cersei, of all people, to be so lowkey. They weren’t friends by any means and hadn’t always been on the best of terms, yet the Lannister hadn’t publicly outed Rhaenys in front of the class, which was an absolute win, when it really should’ve been basic decency. After that; everyone had begun chattering away and discussing the upcoming test, so she’d taken her opportunity to slip away, neglecting to tell Mr Hightower. 

_ “I’m going to the bathroom,” she weakly whispered to the emerald-eyed girl, her own eyes filling with tears.  _

And now… she was here; crying because  _ what if someone saw!  _ She was so mortified, _ what if there’s a stain on the chair? _ Besides; she didn’t have any pads or anything, nor a shirt to tie around her waist, to keep anyone from seeing it. The nurses office was on the other side of the school, in an adjacent building-- _ there’s no way I’ll get that far without anyone seeing! _ Mr Hightower would probably be wondering where she’d disappeared to, she earnestly hoped Cersei would tell him she went to the bathroom. 

Besides the obvious humiliation for something completely natural, she was also in pain! Her back ached, her head hurt and she was probably going to cry herself into exhaustion, pretty soon. Thankfully; there was no one in the cubicle. Well… once Rhaenys had blown her nose, composed herself, she took out her iphone, which her dad had gotten her for christmas. Elia Martell hadn’t really seen the purpose of it, and made that very clear to Arthur, who actually agreed with his wife because no twelve year-old really  _ needed  _ an iphone. 

Sniffling, she tried to call her mom. Three times. It went straight to voicemail and that’s when the Targaryen realised that her mother had back-to-back meetings that day, which was why she wasn’t picking up. Then; she tried her dad. Also three times. He didn’t pick up either, which made her a bit mad, because to her knowledge; he didn’t have any meetings but maybe he was busy at the corp. Anyway; it was a shitty situation. The only people who remained were her grandmother, who was literally in the caribbean… it was such a long story, or uncle Oberyn, who lived forty minutes away. She would also literally rather pass away than call her grandfather. 

Arthur and Lyanna, a corner of the girl’s mind whispered. Her step-parents… well Arthur had always been kind of like a second father and Lyanna was always really nice to her, even though they weren’t super close. The twelve year-old thought for a few moments on who to call first. Of course Lyanna was the obvious choice, because she was a woman and would understand and all but… there was just something in Rhaenys that didn’t want to call. For some reason; she thought it’d be more awkward than with Arthur.  _ I’ll call him first… if he doesn’t answer, I’ll call Lyanna. He probably has class.  _ She didn’t know what to do if no one picked up.  _ Probably a walk of shame to the nurse’s office.  _

Okay, the girl exhaled, brushing her hair behind her ears and pressing the icon to her step-dad. It rang three times before a voice answered. 

“Rhaenys?” he asked and sounded a bit confused. Honestly; the Targaryen hadn’t expected him to answer and her back was really hurting and she was embarrassed as hell, so she kind of just… slightly whimpered and then began crying again. 

“Arth-Arthur,” she sniffled, trying to get the words out but for some reason; her throat had all-but closed. 

“Hey, are you alright, kid?” her step-dad asked worriedly, “Did something happen?” 

“I-I mom and dad aren’t- they aren’t answering,” she hiccupped, trying to calm herself, “I’m- my pants are ruined,” she cried even harder because they were her  _ favorite  _ pants, “I-I don’t know what to do--” 

“-Rhaenys,” her step-dad told her, sounding as if he was standing up from some place, “Slow down, take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.” She tried to fumble to get the words out, but Arthur Dayne stopped her, “Deep breath in, deep breath out.” Doing as he said; the girl began speaking, although it was quite rambly. 

“We had math,” she told him tearfully, “and- and I- I got my period.” There was a slight pause on the other end, then an exhale was heard. 

“Ah, fuck.” The man usually made a really hard point of not swearing around the kids, but this seemed to really have taken him aback. 

“Can you pick me up?” she asked him, her voice wavering, although the deep breaths had helped, “I just wanna’ go home.” A bit of shuffling was heard and the man seemed to be on the move. 

“Yeah, of course, kid,” the man began soothingly, “I’m on my way. Where are you?” 

“I’m in the bathroom,” she told him, looking at the plain, grey wall of the locked cubicle. 

“Does your teacher know you’re there?” 

“No,” Rhaenys began, “I- I don’t know.” 

“Text me the number of the classroom and I’ll talk to him, okay?” the man asked and it sounded like he was getting into his car.

“Can you get my bag, too? It’s the red one with the black-cat keychain that looks like Balerion.” 

“I’m on it,” he mumbled, “I’ll be there in fifteen at most, kiddo. Please don’t stress yourself out, it’ll be fine. Okay?” 

“Thanks, Arthur,” she whispered quietly, then they said their goodbyes and Rhaenys just kind of… blankly stared at the wall for a longer period, no pun intended, of time. 

Classes were still going on, she’d left in the beginning of math, so only one or two people really entered the stall, which was a comfort. The Targaryen always made sure to pull her knees up to her chest and shut up when they were there. Well… after around twenty minutes, a knock was heard on the outer door, and then it was carefully opened. 

“Rhaenys, you in here, kiddo?” came her step-dad’s comforting voice, in turn earning a sniffle and a weak “Yes.” 

Then, she stood up, a bit uncomfortable because she’d stuffed some paper as an emergency fix-it, and opened the door, coming face-to-face with her mom’s husband. 

“Come here, kid,” he told her, sighing, putting down her bag and opening his arms, upon seeing the tear-streaked face. Sniffling, the girl hurried into his arms and began crying a bit because… when you’re twelve, the slightest inconvenience makes you feel as if the world is ending, “It’s fine,” Arthur Dayne soothed, “I explained to Mr Hightower and there’s nothing to worry about.” 

“You told him?” she shrieked, horrified at the mere thought. 

“Calm down,” he pulled back, wiping away her tears, “I said there’d been a small accident and that you’re fine but I’m picking you up and taking you home.” Purple eyes, the same as hers, were marked with concern. 

“Oh, okay,” she calmed down. 

“Here,” he said suddenly and handed her a sweatshirt, “It’s what I had in the back of the car. You can tie it around your waist.” 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, accepting it gratefully.

“Hey,” Arthur repeated, smiling reassuringly, “It’ll be fine, kid. I told you.” Then; they walked out to the car. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot of people around, as there was still ten minutes left of her math class, and probably a lot of other ones. 

“We’ll stop at Walmart,” her step-dad said, a bit awkwardly, “To get you some… things.” 

“Okay,” Rhaenys nodded, still distressed as fuck. Arthur put on the radio and it played some hit-song she’d heard a thousand times before but it was still nice… in a way. She really appreciated that he came and helped her out and all that shit. Soon enough; they pulled into the parking lot and got out. 

“Okay, we’re gonna’ have to be a bit quick because I have to be back within the hour.” Nodding, the Targaryen trailed after the man who very-well could’ve been her father, if one were to look at the eyes. 

The Dayne shopped with an efficiency, unlike her mother Elia, who had to stop by everything. First they headed to the isle with all the feminime products and honestly… he was doing the utmost; reading and mumbling to himself  _ ‘I think I saw this in the bathroom once’ _ or  _ ‘Ashara threw this box in my face when she was mad, once’ _ . Rhaenys just trailed after him like a lost, little kitten with a too-large grey sweatshirt tied around her waist. 

“C’mere, kid,” Arthur told her as he shoved some of the boxes into the basket, then they moved into the clothes area. 

“Get yourself a new pair of pants, while you’re at it. I’m going to the freeze aisle.” Why he was going to do that, she didn’t know, but nodded nonetheless. 

Rhaenys did find a cute pair of jeans with little ribbons going down the sides and decided they were nice. So; she went in search of her step-father. It wasn’t that hard to find him because the Dayne was really tall and had a very uncommon, natural hair-color. He patted her back comfortingly when she showed up beside him, noticing he’d placed a carton of Ben & Jerry’s in the red basket.

“The vegan coconut is still your favorite, right?” He asked, “If it’s not we can get anoth-” 

“-It is,” she murmured and her step-dad sighed in relief, “We’ll get some more snacks. Your mom won’t be too happy but I’ll deal with that, ‘kay?” 

“Yeah,” the brown-haired Targaryen nodded, feeling the sudden urge to hug the man because he was literally being so nice.  _ Well, Arthur is always nice to you… _

After that, Arthur looked at some other random things and Rhaenys’s thoughts began taking a downward spiral. She began wondering if there was a stain on that chair, or if Cersei Lannister had told everyone, or if someone had seen or- And suddenly she was lowkey… on the downlow, sniffling and crying as she trailed after her step-dad. The mysterious people of Target were eyeing her a bit concernedly, taking peaks at her and then at Arthur. 

The Dayne, upon noticing this, turned to Rhaenys and crouched down a bit. 

“Kid,” he began, wincing, and she nodded, trying to wipe away her tears and act normal, “If you keep on crying like that and looking... generally distressed… These people are going to start thinking you’re a kidnap-victim and not my kid. And that’s going to be a bit hard to explain to my supervisors,” he joked but that’s not what she got caught up on.  _ He called me his kid. _ That meant something to young Rhaenys and she found herself really appreciative to have Arthur in her life. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl told him, determinedly wiping her tears away, inhaling and exhaling deeply, “I’ve got it.” 

“Knew you did,” the man grinned, pulling her in for a side-hug, “Now let’s get to check-out.” 

After that, he took her to the target bathrooms.

“Please don’t sit down on those toilets or really touch anything but the soap and sink,” he eyed the bathroom warily, “And here you go,” he awkwardly handed her the jeans and a pad out of the box of them, “Your mom’s explained how it works and stuff?” Rhaenys nodded and it was a quick exchange, to spare them both of the awkwardness. She made quick work of it, ripping the tag off the pants and so on, so forth. That public bathroom gave her hypochondriac-tendencies the creeps though.

“Okay,” Arthur said when she got out and he looked a bit stressed, “All done?”

“Yep,” she murmured, following him out of the store and getting into the black car. 

“Okay so I’m going to drop you off at home because I’ve got to get back to work. I think Lyanna’s at your dad’s, if you don’t want to be alone?”

“No, I’m fine,” Rhaenys told the man, it’d be awkward as hell to explain to her step-mom why she was there in the middle of the day. Besides; Rhaenys had Balerion who was waiting for her at home. Elia Martell had kept the cat in the divorce, because they both loved him so much. 

The drive took about ten minutes and Arthur seemed very anxious by the end, because he kept checking the time. 

“I’m sorry!” Rhaenys exclaimed, “I didn’t know you were bus-”

“It’s fine, kiddo,” Arthur told her pointedly, “I’ll be there, whenever you need me. Always.” 

“Thank you,” she replied and opened the car-door, the man handing her the shopping-bag, “Love you.” 

“I love you too, Rhaenys,” he replied softly, “Should I call your mom or text her that you’ll tell her about it yourself?” 

“Can you tell her?” Rhaenys wondered, she felt too exhausted to deal with her mother’s inquiries at that moment. Of course it came from a good place, but Elia had a knack of dragging things out and asking a lot of questions. Usually, Rhaenys liked their moments but now; she just wanted to cuddle up to Balerion and sleep. 

Speaking of that cat, he was waiting by the porch, stretching and sauntering over to his owner, once she opened the fence. 

“Bye, Arthur,” she called and the man replied through the window, driving away. Balerion meowed in greeting and began purring as she petted him behind the ears.

“I’ve missed you,” Rhaenys told the cat, unlocking the door for them both to step inside. The cat seemed to return her sentiments. 

Then, she put all the snacks away in the cupboard and freezer, vowing to eat them later. After that; she walked upstairs to her room and sunk down on her twin-bed with the purple bedding and got into her pajamas. Her back was still hurting but it had dulled by now. Balerion jumped up on the bed and settled himself by the side of her head, his own, triangular one resting peacefully in the crook of her neck. Rhaegar had responded to his daughter’s message forty minutes earlier, she noticed. He’d asked her if she was alright and if it was important. 

**To: Dad**

It’s fine. No

**Dad:**

You sure, honey?

**To: Dad**

Yeah, it’s solved now. 

**Dad:**

Ok. Love you.

**To: Dad**

U too 

Then; she slept. 

***

“Rhaenys, baby,” a voice began lulling the Targaryen out of her sleep. A soft hand was stroking her cheek, “It’s time to wake up.” 

“Mom?” she murmured sleepily, opening lavender eyes to see Elia sitting by the side of her bed, petting a lazily dozing Balerion.

“Dinner’s ready,” her mother began warmly, leaning down to kiss the Targaryen’s forehead, “Arthur made your favorite.” 

“Chicken casserole?” 

“The one and only,” the brown-haired woman grinned but looked a bit concerned, noting how pale her daughter was, “You feelin’ alright?” 

“Mhm,” the girl sat up, moving to hug her mom. She did that for what some would think was a weirdly long amount of time, but the Targaryen took a deep comfort. Her mom smelled of flowers and safety and home, it calmed the young Rhaenys. 

“Arthur told me what happened,” Elia began, “I’m so sorry, hun. I was stuck in meetings and didn’t get your call.” 

“It’s fine,” Rhaenys replied, hugging her mother tighter, “I know you’re busy.” 

“Not too busy for you, baby.” 

“Arthur seemed stressed,” the girl frowned, “Did he have something important?” 

“He had an interview to become the head of the English department,” the dornishwoman began and Rhaenys felt a sinking feeling in her gut, “He didn’t want to tell you because he knew you’d feel bad,” Elia continued, “He doesn’t even want  _ me  _ to tell you. So it’s our secret, okay?” 

“Did he get the job?” Rhaenys frowned, pulling back to meet her mother’s dark eyes, with clear lavender ones of her own.

“We’ll find out next week,” the woman replied, petting Balerion absentmindedly with one hand, “It’s Arthur. He probably did, so don’t worry.” 

“Mkay,” the girl frowned. 

“Now come downstairs,” her mother smiled softly, “For dessert we’ll eat all the snacks Arthur sneakily got you.” 

***

After dinner, Rhaenys and Aegon did their homework at the kitchen table, while Arthur and Elia sat in the living-room all snuggled up in blankets, watching _ Shrek the Third,  _ for some odd reason. The young Targaryen finished rather quickly and asked Aegon if he wanted any help, but the kid was a brainiac, he just shook his head. So; she grabbed the tub of Ben & Jerry’s and moved to the living room, arriving to hear a snippet of her parents’ conversation. 

“You’re my princess,” her step-dad grinned, stroking her mom’s back, earning a chuckle.

“Are you my valiant knight, then? The brave Shrek?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a bit fitter,” the man replied, “But I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Even your ogre.” 

“You’re both so cheesy,” Rhaenys mumbled and moved to squeeze herself between the both of them, feeling very appreciated when they both embraced her, pulling a blanket over her. 

“How you feelin’, kid?” Arthur asked softly, kissing the top of her head.

“Better,” the Targaryen replied, sighing slightly. 

They continued watching the movie, until Aegon finished with his homework.  _ How much homework can a nine-year old have?  _ She wondered, then shivering and realising that her brother probably did it for fun and asked for extra worksheets and stuff. 

“Can I get some?” Aegon asked, eyeing her ice-cream. She was feeling nice, so she nodded, “Grab your own spoon, though.” her brother ran into the kitchen, grabbed one and then returned, seating himself between Elia and Rhaenys. 

And so; they just ate junk-food and watched Shrek. It was a really wholesome ending to a very, very stressful day. 


	6. I'm in love, won't say it twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, wow, another update! 
> 
> Well... I had this chapter laying around and thought 'why not post it'. That's it for a while though, folks, at least when it comes to the 'Ain't no rest for the wicked' series. For now; I'll be focusing on my other story 'Pray The Sun Will Rise'. Hopefully there'll be an update during the weekend... maybe sooner, maybe later-- lmao I feel like GRRM. 
> 
> Regular deal; Leave a kudos if you're enjoying these drabbles and drop a comment down below if you feel like it :)
> 
> Until next time, 
> 
> <3

Elia stepped inside Arthur’s house quite joyfully. She’d had a good day at the coffee-shop she co-owned. It’d been a slow, cozy type of rainy-day, where everything was simply beautiful and calm. The kids were at a sleep-over, which meant that she could both stay the night at his place, as well as enjoy her freedom for the entire weekend. Not that Elia didn’t absolutely adore and love her kids… but she needed a break sometimes. 

Arthur was in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, staring intently at his laptop. They’d been dating on the lowkey for a few months now, ever since her divorce was finalized.  _ We haven’t told the kids yet, but we will. In due time. _ When she had more of a grip on her life. Until then; there was a lot of sneaking around and pretending Arthur was just over to visit or fix the oven that wasn’t really broken. 

“Hey, babe,” Elia beamed, throwing off her jean jacket and moving to embrace him from behind, kissing his cheek, “I’ve missed you.” 

All of a sudden, she heard a collective gasp come from the computer, which was extremely odd, then a chorus of “Mr Dayne”’s was heard. Arthur himself laughed in that awkward way people do, when they don’t really know how to diffuse a situation. 

“Elia,” he looked at her and smiled warmly, “Meet this year’s graduates.” The Dornishwoman turned her eyes upon the screen and was met by quite a few unknown faces. 

“Oh,” she realised, wincing, “You’re in a class… It’s three in the afternoon, of course… your last class of the day…”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s not a class,” a brown-haired guy grinned at the screen, “It’s just an extra session for us who have questions and shit left to do.” 

“Thank you for that,” she told the camera, still a bit unsure on what to do, “I’ll just kind of leave you all to it, then…” 

“So nice to meet you,” one of the other guys said, he had bright-green hair, “We’ve been trying to get our man to dish on his personal life for ages! Now he’ll have to.” 

“Don’t be so confident, Dylan,” Arthur shook his head, smiling, then turning to Elia, “I’ll be done in thirty minutes.” 

Nodding, she got the hell out of the frame, instead opting to make a cup of coffee, too. As she was absentmindedly pouring the instant-mix into her favorite mug with black cat-ears, another voice spoke from the dreaded box of possibilities. 

“Yo, Mr. Dayne, did you hear that?” 

“Hear what, Zach?” Arthur asked, frowning slightly at the screen.  _ He’s such an old man, in a young way.  _

“That freezing silence,” the voice explained patiently. 

“Elaborate,” the silver-haired man sighed, tapping his pen against the wooden table. 

“It was the collective sound of every girl in this class’s heart breaking.”

“Zach, you should be focusing on  _ handing in _ your paper on ancient civilisations,  _ not  _ my personal life,” Elia’s boyfriend snorted, dragging a hand through his cropped hair.

“But it’s  _ so  _ much  _ more  _ interesting,” the guy continued in a whine and Elia chuckled silently at the dramatic response.  _ Are these people really in college?  _

“Work,” Arthur told the guy, “Or I’m going to quiz you on it tomorrow.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Zach gasped. 

“Oh, I would,” the Dayne nodded, raising an eyebrow at the screen, “I  _ totally  _ would.” 

Arthur continued speaking with his students for the duration of class, as Elia stood on the sidelines, simply observing him. He was such a good teacher and really tried to make the participants both understand and grow intrigued by the subject in such a casual way. The Dayne didn’t  _ have  _ to keep them in check, he already had their respect, which from her own college days; Elia knew was hard for a professor to be able to sustain. Of course he joked around and was all-around-chill as a teacher, but he was still taken seriously. 

“Finally,” Arthur groaned and closed down the top, rising to walk toward her. 

“Hello to you, too,” she grinned, leaning back against the counter, her half-empty mug in hand, “Sorry for the interruption earlier, I’d forgotten you had an extra study period today. 

“Some of them are late on work and have questions in general, so I force some of them to do it every week. It’s fine, though. Maybe now, the not-so-subtle flirting of some will stop.” 

“The girls flirt with you?” Elia asked with an impressed smirk as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Sometimes guys do, too,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck, she felt his smile on her skin, “It’s kind of flattering, since I am in my thirties.” 

“You’re like thirty-one, Arthur, not an old man,” she murmured, “And you’re hot as hell, so soak it up, champ.” 

“You should have been on my conference last night, with the faculty,” he pulled back and sighed, taking her mug and placing it in the sink.

“Why?” the Dornishwoman asked, admiring his ass in those black slacks. 

“Because maybe Lisa will stop trying to get me to fuck her in the supply closet, then.” Elia choked on that comment and began coughing slightly, finally composing herself and amusedly asking “Haven’t you told her you’re seeing someone?” 

“I have slid it into casual conversations,” he nodded, then wincing, “And then also that time she tried to shove her tongue down my throat at the bar.” 

“Were we together back then?”

“Not officially, I don’t think. It was right after you found out Rhaegar had been… hiding an entire life from you,” then he pondered, “Well, did we ever go official-official? We kind of just skipped dating and went right to married life, without being married.” 

“How interesting,” Elia murmured, feeling slightly irritated by the fact that the Lisa woman wouldn’t quit her clearly unwanted romantic advances.  _ Arthur would never cheat on me, he’s like a golden retriever in the human form but Lisa needs to learn her fucking place.  _ At that, the Dornishwoman moved to fix the papers on the kitchen-table from their disorganized state, into a neat pile.

“Don’t let her get you down,” Arthur murmured, embracing her from behind, “I’ve waited for you all week.” 

“I’m sorry,” Elia replied, “We’ll go public. I just want the kids to settle in a bit more, you know?” Rhaegar had jumped straight into moving Lyanna into their old home, as soon as the divorce was finalized. It had been quite a big change for Rhaenys and Aegon, she just wanted to keep their normalcy for a bit longer. To have it just be the three of them. 

“I know, baby,” Arthur murmured, lips against her neck and his hand was creeping upward from her knee, underneath her bright dress, to her thighs. 

Now Arthur may have looked like her husband, when it came to the color of his hair and eyes, but he was so different from Rhaegar and Elia relished in it. 

“Did you have a good day?” he asked, lips barely touching the lobe of her ear, as his hand casually moved upward and began stroking her through the lace of her panties. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, leaning her head back against his shoulder and exhaling blissfully,“It was really calm.” 

“That’s always nice,” he told her, “But let’s make it better.” 

And Arthur Dayne knew his shit, okay? He knew exactly where to touch, where to rub--  _ Everything, _ the man was like a god himself. The best thing was that he liked being a giver, he’d even told her that he got off on the  _ other  _ person getting off! Honestly, sometimes Elia wondered why she hadn’t just given Arthur a chance first, instead of Rhaegar. Of course Rhaegar hadn’t sucked at sex, he just lacked the diversity she’d wanted. That, and he wasn’t really a giver. Now; Elia was flexible, she could give as much as she took... but being with Arthur felt like a cultural reset. 

Elia hadn’t ever been the really kinky type, she’d never really explored like that.  _ I mean… there was the lowkey mandatory college threesome,  _ which had been with Rhaegar and some other girl in their year. Her ex-husband had never wanted to try out the devil’s version of that because  _ ‘I’m not gay, Elia!’ Well, neither was I…  _ But she wouldn’t really have constituted a threesome as kinky or anything. Then, there was that voyeuristic stuff that Rhaegar had been into but she’d always been pretty basic when it came to sex. Just following the stream and what other people wanted. 

That’s why it surprised her when Arthur was always asking what she wanted to try out, or if that felt good, or if she didn’t like it. Communication was honestly key and the Dayne seemed well aware of that.  _ We don’t even like fight… the way Rhaegar and I did.  _ Her boyfriend used sound logic and shit, he rarely ever got angry and if he did, then she would always think it was kind of hot, because he was such a non-confrontational dude, for a man his size. 

When she and Rhaegar  _ really  _ fought, it’d be a literal war-zone and his anger would end up in petulance because he couldn’t ever admit he was in the wrong. So they never really solved their issues and instead sweeped them under the rug, until they began speaking to each other again, which would usually happen after a few days. They were both stubborn as hell. Arthur would always apologize if he was in the wrong, sometimes even if he wasn’t and there’d simply been a misunderstanding. Their communication was  _ chef’s kiss _ to Elia. 

Arthur continued his ministrations, all the while leaning down to kiss her and honestly, it was really hot. Then, he took the other hand that had basically been holding and fondling her, and placed it around her neck, applying just the slightest bit of pressure. Now when Elia said that generally speaking; she wasn’t very kinky... Turned out that Arthur kind of was. For such a laid-back, whatever goes kind of guy, he really did  _ not  _ come off as the type. But he liked it a bit more intense, and still wasn’t limited to just one type of sex. The man was just a fucking-connoisseur, if she was being honest.

“Arthur, wait,” she told him, removing his hand from her neck, as well as the one between her thighs. 

“What?” he asked confusedly, but Elia didn’t mind that and instead took his hand, guiding him to the chair he’d been sitting on for his online-class thing. Then, without breaking eye-contact, she began unbuttoning his red button-up, then turning her attention to the black slacks. 

“You look like Santa,” she commented, pulling them and the boxers down, pushing the Dayne down onto the chair, getting on top of him with a sigh in the process. 

“Then what are you?” he breathed, winking, “Mrs. Claus? My little elf?” 

“Maybe I packaged the wrong toy,” she frowned, playing along, “Would that make Santa mad?” Arthur’s hand traveled from the small of her back, down to her hips, urging her on tightly.

“Incredibly so,” he grinned, kissing her until she giggled. 

***

“Hey babe,” Elia casually greeted when Arthur called her at around lunch, “What’s up?” 

“I’m in a bit of a pickle,” the Dayne explained, “I have a class in thirty minutes and forgot their tests at home-- Are you doing anything special?” 

“Are you implying that I break into your house, steal the tests away like a thief in the night and bring them to you?” the Dornishwoman grinned, enjoying her theatrics.

“It’s not breaking and entering  _ or  _ stealing if you have a key,” he chuckled, “And yeah, if you’ve got the time. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Arthur,” she waved off, taking a bite out of her wrap, “I end now anyway, the shop is closing because they’re fixing a few windows or something.” 

“Oh, great,” he breathed, “It’s just that I promised them I’d have their tests. I’ll make it up to you later.” 

“Oh,” she mumbled, “I’ll be waiting.” 

“Sure you will be,” he snorted, “But thanks, doll, I’ve got to go. Text me when you’re here.” 

“Yep, see you.” 

Elia had greatly underestimated rush hour traffic. It took her a whole ten minutes to get to Arthur’s from the shop, when it’d usually take like three with the car. Then; it’d take around fifteen minutes to get to the school… _ I can make it in ten, it’s fine if I speed a little…. Just a little.  _ So; she did, but even so, it took around the same amount of time, if not more. Because there were like 1500 cars in front of her.  _ Well, I’m exaggerating but there really was a lot of fucking cars.  _

When Elia finally arrived, there was like three minutes until class started and… she had no fucking idea where to go. She’d sent a quick text to Arthur and he’d told her to go into the main entrance, walk down the hall, run up two flights of stairs and head to the third classroom to her right.  _ What a fucking olympic sport. I have to do this in two minutes! _ she thought despairingly, as she power-walked into the building. There were a lot of people there, but the dornishwoman followed the instructions and soon came face-to-face with the stairs. By that time; his class had already started. But she powered on, clutching the stack of papers in her arms, dodging students left and right. 

_ Third classroom to the right… third class- there it is! _ Elia thought triumphantly as she saw a pale, white door. It was closed, though and she felt awkward in the ‘I’m a late high-school student and my class has already started’ way, except this was college.  _ Everyone  _ would be looking at her.  _ It doesn’t help that I walked in on their fucking meeting-thing two days ago! _ Trying to pep-talk herself into opening the door, a brown-haired guy showed up beside her. 

“Are you going to go in or wh- wait!” he exclaimed, a gleeful expression taking over his features, “You’re Mr Dayne’s girlfriend! I’m Zach, nice to meet you… physically, that is,” he grinned and outstretched a hand. With an anxious smile, she shook it and gave him her name. 

“I’m just dropping off some tests,” she murmured, realising Arthur was probably wondering where she was. Checking her watch, it’d been like four minutes since his class started. 

“Well you’re late, I’m late-- should we just go in?” the guy offered and she nodded gratefully as he opened the door.

Arthur was sitting on the top of his bench, saying something to the class but she couldn’t focus on that, because he had his blue sleeves rolled up his forearms and looked hotter than hell, to be honest.  _ I see the appeal. I one hundred percent see it.  _

“Oh, there they are,” he grinned, “Your tests… and Zach as an added bonus.” 

“I’m the gift,” the brown-haired guy grinned, casually taking his seat. Elia felt like everyone’s eyes were on her, which they were, and a strange need to introduce herself, in fear of being considered rude, engulfed her. 

“Hey, I’ll just put these here and then I’ll go,” she told the class, laughing a bit nervously, “Don’t wanna’ interrupt your education and all.” 

“Believe us,” one of the guys said, sounding like that Dylan who’d been on the skype call, “When we say this is  _ much  _ more interesting than ancient civilisations.” 

“You’re late on that too, man?” Zach asked and Dylan nodded a bit too eagerly. 

“Watch yourselves,” Arthur told them, slightly shaking his head and turning to Elia, “Now that you’re here, would you mind helping to hand these out? Or I could just torture  _ Dylan  _ and  _ Zach  _ by asking them to do it,” he said a bit loudly, eyeing the two guys who blew him kisses in return. 

“Yeah sure,” she shrugged and earned a reassuring but slightly apologetic smile. 

Handing them out went kind of quick. She’d just call out the names and walk over to the seats. Elia noticed a few of the girls really eyeing Arthur dreamily and to be honest, she found it a bit funny. Then; there were a few people who looked genuinely depressed as she handed them their tests… maybe that was because of their grades, Elia didn’t check, so she didn’t know. Most of them seemed to have done pretty well, though. For the glimpses that she did see. 

Arthur finished faster than her, probably because of how he actually knew their names and didn’t have to call it out. 

“Okay guys, regular set-up; you look at them for ten minutes, then I’ll answer your questions and for the remainder of class; we’ll go through the ones that most of you struggled with. Sounds good?” Everyone nodded and began yapping with each other, like people usually do when they get tests back. Elia took the opportunity to walk up to Arthur’s seat and greet him. 

“Hey, this is my last class,” he mumbled, smiling softly at her, “If you feel like waiting in the teacher’s lounge, we could head to my place for a bit after. Maybe order some pizza?”

“Didn’t you drive here?” Elia asked, leaning against his desk slightly. 

“Nope, hitched a ride with my colleague.” 

“Oh,” she murmured, “Then that works. The kids are going to Rhaegar’s after school and kindergarten anyway. It’s his birthday, so he gets the day.” 

“Mr Dayne,” a voice broke them out of their conversation, of course; belonging to Zach.

“You know,” the Dayne looked at Elia in mock-confusion, “I don’t think ten minutes has passed, do you?” 

“No,” she smiled and shook her head.

“I’m only playing with you, Zach. What’s up?” Arthur grinned.

“My essay, also known as my blood, sweat and tears, on ancient civilisations; for your viewing pleasure,” the guy handed over a few pages of papers, stapled together. The Dayne had snorted at the word pleasure. 

“Did you finish this during class, Zach?” he asked and the brown-haired teen grinned.

“A magician  _ never  _ reveals his secrets.” 

“Well, is that magician  _ satisfied  _ with his work?” 

“As satisfied as a poor, in-debt magician can be,” Zach replied, grin still in place.

“Well,” Arthur sighed, “Then I accept.” 

“Gratefully?”

“It would have been gratefully if you’d handed it in a week ago, don’t push your luck, kiddo.” 

“Well, I’m just going to go ahead and raid the teacher’s lounge for coffee. It was nice meeting you, Zach,” Elia smiled, smoothing out the creases of her black skirt. To be quite honest; she was feeling herself in her all-black ensemble consisting of a blouse and flats. She also had gold jewelry on and a bronzed eye-look, which did much, if she was being honest. 

“You did well, man,” Zach tried to fist-bump her boyfriend, who just stared at the hand.

“It’s time to get back to your seat,” Arthur shook his head hopelessly at the guy.

“See you around, Elia,” the teen grinned and then; he was gone. 

“Bye,” she mumbled to Arthur, hoping her ass looked great when she walked out the door.  _ It’s the little things in life, okay? _

***

The lounge was kind of empty, but she just quickly grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee, finding Arthur’s little desk-area and sitting down. He had a copy of Hamlet by his desk…  _ typical, _ she smiled ruefully, picking it up and beginning to read it, waiting for the coffee to cool down. Elia managed about ten minutes before someone addressed her.  _ Probably because I’m not Arthur.  _

“Hey,” a blonde woman asked kindly, holding a red mug in her hands,“Who’re you?” 

“Oh, hi,” the Dornishwoman smiled, putting away the copy, “I’m Arthur’s girlfriend. I just brought over some tests he forgot at home. I’m waiting here because he only has one class left and we’ll just drive home together.” 

“Oh,” the woman’s smile faltered a bit, but she extended her hand, “I’m Lisa.”  _ Oh, _ Elia realised,  _ this  _ was the famed Lisa. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“So,” the woman asked awkwardly, taking a seat by the chair in front of Elia, “How long have you guys been together?” 

“Like six months, but we go way back.” 

“In what way?” Lisa took a sip of her coffee, still looking slightly awkward. 

“We knew each other as kids. I used to crush on him but then we drifted apart.”  _ Maybe it’s not the time to leak how he used to be my ex-husband’s best friend... _

“How romantic,” the woman murmured, seeming lost in her own thoughts, “I always thought Arthur was so single… he’s so sparse when it comes to details on his personal life.” 

“Well,” Elia pressed her lips together and smiled while shrugging at the same time, “He’s not. We’re just private people, I guess.” They spoke for a few more minutes about random stuff, where they studied and so on, so forth-- Until Lisa stood up.

“Oh, well it was really nice meeting you, Elia.”

“You too, Lisa.”

“I’ve got to correct some essays now, so I’ll be sitting over there,” the woman pointed to a surprisingly organised desk in the corner.

“Bye,” the Dornishwoman nodded and then picked up the copy of Hamlet. Arthur had even made personal notes in it.  _ How cute! _ Well… After about thirty more minutes of reading, Arthur entered, tapping her shoulder. 

“Hey babe,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her softly.

“Hey,” she beamed, waving the book in front of him, “I got into your private collection.” 

“You like it?” he grinned and began packing some stuff up by the desk.

“A lot,” Elia replied approvingly, getting up to put her mug in the dishwasher, “I’ll just go put this away. I’ll meet you outside.” Arthur nodded and then she was gone. 

It took him quite a few moments to come out, actually and when the man did; he had a bit of a strange look on his face. 

“Lisa just apologised to me,” he told her as they walked down the stairs.

“She did?” Elia asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, she told me that she genuinely didn’t know I had a girlfriend,  _ even though _ I’ve slipped into conversations.” 

“You’re an English teacher, Arthur,” his girlfriend began ruefully, “Sometimes the way you people slip things into conversation is changing a word into plural or something. People don’t usually read between the lines in casual convos,” she continued to explain, grinning. 

“Maybe you’re onto something,” the silver-haired man replied as they reached her car, opening the passenger door.

“I know.” 

“Anyway; she told me that she’s really sorry for breaching a line and if it made me uncomfortable. The woman was  _ so  _ distressed.” 

“What did you tell her?” Elia asked, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. 

“I said it’s fine and she doesn’t really have to be sorry but that I’ve been trying to tell her a lot. She felt really bad.” 

“Well, now that’s solved,” the Dornishwoman shrugged, “She seems nice. Just a little lonely.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “It’s real hard being lonely.”.

***

Elia was on her knees as soon as they’d closed the front-door.

“Couldn’t wait until we took our shoes off?” he asked, smiling down at her, back against the mahogany wood. 

“Like you’d want to wait,” she grinned like a devil, unzipping his slacks and pulling them down his legs. The Dornishwoman didn’t know why but she just loved to see him fall apart. It was usually always him  _ doing  _ the actual  _ undoing  _ and she liked to see him lose control when it came to that aspect. 

It was always so hot when his cheeks would flush, or he’d tilt his head back and let out a small moan, biting his lower lip. She fucking loved it.

“Fuck,” he cursed, holding her head as she looked up at him through her lashes. A few more minutes and he was gone, urging her upward for a lazy kiss. At first; when they’d begun being more sexual; it had surprised her. Rhaegar never liked kissing after she’d gone down on him, but in the rare instances that he’d reciprocated; he’d always wanted to kiss her and she wondered why it didn’t go both ways. There was no such problem with Arthur, he gave no fucks, a _ real man, honestly. _

“That was so good,” he pulled back to catch his breath slightly, also pulling up his pants, ”Fucking hell.” 

It had actually taken them a solid month after the divorce, to actually seal the deal and sleep with each other. Of course they’d messed around and things would get heated but… Elia just didn’t want to make the mistake of having sex too fast with him, she wanted it to actually mean something. That and… she was just in a weird place during and after the divorce, her mind had been too occupied with other things and priorities. Arthur had understood and never pressured her into anything, he’d been a really good support-system. 

Of course Elia had been angry after Rhaegar’s scandal came to light.  _ I did fool around with Arthur on our bed…  _ That had been purely rage-motivated, but she hadn’t slept with him. Most of the year leading up to the divorce, she’d just been spending a lot of time with the Dayne--  _ when I didn’t have to juggle court appointments, hide from the press, drive the kids around, find a job and attempt to make everything somewhat normal. _ It had honestly broken her-- was still breaking her.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” Arthur broke her out of the reminiscent thoughts, holding her tightly against him. 

“Do you really want to know? Curiosity did kill the cat,” Elia smiled softly, head against his chest-- feeling the tell-tale beat of a heart that was just as much hers, as hers was his. 

“I’m not a cat,” the man kissed the top of her head.

“The first time we slept together,” she then murmured, looking up to meet his violet eyes that reminded her of Ashara. 

“Oh,” the man smiled a bit, the flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes lighting up his features, “We’ve come a long way since, I would be so bold as to say.” 

“Definitely,” the Dornishwoman nodded and pulled her hair out her low bun, letting it fall down in brown waves, down to the small of her back, “I’m gonna’ go brush my teeth. I feel a bit gross.” 

“You’re not gross,” he told her, slapping her butt as she turned to leave, “You’re hot.” 

“You’re one to speak,” Elia hollered, moving down the hall, vaguely hearing Arthur’s response of how he’s ordering pizza. 

When she returned, she found him leaning out of the kitchen window, a cigarette in hand. Elia didn’t smoke herself, but Arthur had been doing it since high-school, if the dornishwoman was remembering it correctly. At least he wasn’t a chainsmoker, it would be two or three a day, at most. 

“Pizza should be here in ten,” he exhaled,turning to face Elia, stroking her hand with the one that wasn’t holding the cigarette. 

“Pineapple?” Elia asked, raising an eyebrow at the man. 

“Yes,” he replied, dragging a hand through his short, silver-gold waves, taking a deep inhale of the cigarette and tapping away the ashes into a tray by the window.

“I’m thinking you can come over for dinner on sunday? I’m making lasagna,” the dornishwoman bit her lip, observing the man in front of her.  _ He belongs in a damn museum…  _

“My favorite,” the Dayne grinned so brightly it would’ve put the sun to shame, “I’d love to, Ells… but wouldn’t Rhaenys think it was a bit weird if I came over for the dinner meal? She’s a sneaky one,” he continued fondly, taking another drag of the cigarette. 

“You’re her uncle Arthur,” the woman soothed, smiling slightly, “I don’t think she’ll think anything of it.”

“Alright,” the man nodded, taking a final inhale and putting the cigarette out in the tray. Then, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his head in the crook of her shoulder. 

“That tickles,” she giggled, raising her right arm to drag a hand through the short hair, also turning to kiss the side of his head. 

“I just love you,” came his voice, “I started to, years ago… it was so slow at first and I felt so guilty. Rhaegar was my best friend, you were never meant for me and yet; here we are. Sometimes I can’t believe it. How lucky I was-- am.” 

The words were spoken softly, tenderly, lovingly-- truthfully. It turned her heart to mush, if she was being honest.

“I love you too, baby,” she withdrew from his embrace, turning to gaze into his liquid, violet eyes. In truth; a piece of that love had begun taking root years before her divorce-- growing each time Arthur would have to pick up his friend’s slack.  _ I always stuffed it away because it was wrong. Because I thought Rhaegar loved me and that I had his heart.  _ But she was wrong; Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen were always meant for a bitter tragedy, for the final despair. But their beginning was so sweet, so sweet that no one would have had any idea. 

“No,” he shook his head, “I don’t think you know  _ how much _ I do. Sometimes I think I’ll die with how deeply I feel it. My heart just seems to overflow…” He was an english teacher, they had a way with words, didn’t they? However; it was one thing to know the art of expressing yourself eloquently and actually meaning what you say, instead of just spewing bullshit for the sake of it. Her ex tended to do the latter. 

“Stop it,” Elia whispered, a warmth spreading in her chest, “Or you’ll make me cry away the eyeshadow I spent twenty minutes on.” 

“We can’t have that, now can we?” Arthur Dayne asked softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek with his hand, leaning forward, lips almost brushing against hers. 

“Nope,” she breathed, “But there’s something I do feel like having.” 

“What’s that?” He smiled, placing a small kiss on the side of her mouth, and then another and anoth-

“You,” Elia Martell beamed, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.  
  



End file.
